^f ^ 



THE SHAKESPEARE LIBRARY. 
GENERAL EDITOR PROFESSOR 
I. GOLLANCZ, LiTT.D. 




C 3 



A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM 



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The difcouerie 

of wicchcrafr, 

VVherein the lewde dealing of witches 

and mtchmongers isnotablie eleteBedy the 

knauerie of coniurors,the impietie ofinchan- 

torSythefoUte offdothfaiers,the mfudent fdf- 

hood of coufenors, the infidelitic ofathcifts, 

thefefiiUntfrihi/es offythiniHs, tlx 

curioficie of figurecalters, the va- 

mftV tfdrciontrs, the iffgnr- 

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inyftric. 

The abhominationof idolatrie, the hor- 

rible art offoifoning, the vertue and pra>er of 

naturall magikcj and all the conuciances 

of Lfgierdmuum lUuiiugglwgiareJeaphtrtd: 

and many other things opcncdjwbich 

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vcncnccefTaricto 

bcknowDC* 

Hccrcvnto is added a treatife vpon the 

MtureMdfilfluncetf^intstnddauls, 
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^ Gtd •ffor ttwuefd/iprefhtts arernu 

mtiatt tht mrU, (^c. 

1J84 






THE SOURCES AND 
ANALOGUES OF *A 
MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S 
DREAM' COMPILED 
BY FRANK SIDGWICK 




NEW YORK 

DUFFIELD & COMPANY 

LONDON: CHATTO & WINDUS 

1908 



TJ 



.S4 



" COMBIEN DE ROMANS DU JOUR ET DE GAZETTES AI-JE FERMl^S POUR 
ETUDIER PLUS LONGTEMPS CES ADMIRABLES COMPOSITIONS, IMAGES 
DE l'eSPRIT, DES MCEURS ET DES CROYANCES DE NOS ANCETRES !' 

Paulin Paris. 



.^3e 



CONTENTS 

PACE 

Introduction . . . . . i 

§ I. The Main (Sentimental) Plot . 7 

§ 2. The Grotesque Plot . . -27 

§ 3. The Fairy Plot ■ • • 33 

Oberon's Vision , . . .66 

Illustrative Texts .... 69 

Notes ...... 188 

Index . . . . . .194 



THE SOURCES AND ANALOGUES 

OF 

"A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S 
DREAM " 

A STUDY such as the present one does not demand any 
elaborate investigation of the date or circumstances of 
the first production of the play, unless these throw light on the 
inquiry into its sources ; but in any case it is always well to 
base a literary study on literary history. Here it will suffice 
to say shortly that A Midsummer-Night^ s Dream, first pub- 
lished in 1600, must have been acted before or during 1598, 
as it is definitely mentioned in Meres' Palladis Tamia of that 
year. A more exact determination of its date can only be 
derived from the internal evidence supplied by allusions in 
the text or by metrical and general style. Such allusions as 
have been discovered — for example, that reference to " the 
death of learning," V. i. 52-3 — form here as elsewhere a 
battle-ground for critics of all sorts, but do not really assist 
us to an answer. More trustworthy testimony, however, 
is afforded by the general character of the play, and by 
Shakespeare's handling of his material ; these considerations, 



2 SOURCES AND ANALOGUES OF 

combined with whatever other evidence is available, have 
caused the play to be assigned to the winter of 1594-5. 
So placed, it is the latest of the early comedies of Shake- 
speare, who makes an advance on The Tivo Gentlemen of 
Verona, but has not yet attained the firmness of hand which 
fills the canvas of The Merchant of Venice with so many well- 
delineated figures. Once arrived at this conclusion, we need 
not let ourselves again be led away into vagueness or critical 
polemics by an attempt to find any aristocratic wedding 
which this masque-like play seems designed to celebrate ; 
such theorising, however interesting in other ways, does not 
concern and will not avail us now. 

It is none the less of value to recognise at the outset that 
A Midsummer-Night' s Dream is more of a masque than a 
drama — an entertainment rather than a play. The charac- 
ters are mostly puppets, and scarcely any except Bottom has 
the least psychological interest for the reader. Probability 
is thrown to the winds ; anachronism is rampant ; classical 
figures are mixed with fairies and sixteenth-century Warwick- 
shire peasants. The main plot is sentimental, the secondary 
plot is sheer buffoonery ; while the story of Titania's jeal- 
ousy and O heron's method of curing it can scarcely be digni- 
fied by the title of plot at all. The threads which bind 
together these three tales, however ingeniously fastened, are 
fragile. The Spirit of Mischief puts a happy end to the 
differences of the four lovers, and by his transformation of 
Bottom reconciles the fairy King and Queen, while he 



*A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DRliAM' 3 

incidentally goes near to spoiling the performance of tlie 
" crew of patches " at the nuptials of Theseus by preventing 
due rehearsal of their interlude. It is perhaps a permissible 
fancy to convert Theseus' words "the lunatic, the lover, and 
the poet," to illustrate the triple appeal made by the three 
ingredients — the grotesque, the sentimental, and the fantastic. 
Each part, of course, is coloured by the poet's genius, and 
the whole is devoted to the comic aspect of love, its eternal 
youth and endless caprice, laughing at laws, and laughed at 
by the secure. " What fools these mortals be ! " is the 
comment of the immortal ; the corollary, left unspoken by 
those outside the pale, being " What fools these lovers be ! " 
The sources from which Shakespeare drew the plots of his 
three dozen of plays are for the most part easily recognis- 
able ; and although in each case the material was altered to 
suit his requirements — nihil tetig'tt quod non ornavit — there is 
as a rule very little doubt as to the derivation. We can say 
with certainty that these nine plays were made out of stories 
from Boccaccio, Masuccio, Bandello, Ser Giovanni, Stra- 
parola, Cinthio or Belleforest ; that those six were based on 
older plays, and another half-dozen drawn from Holinshed ; 
that Chaucer, Gower, Lydgate, Sidney, Greene, and Lodge 
provided other plots ; and so forth, until we are left with 
The Tempest, founded in part on an actual contemporary event, 
Lovers Labour s Lost, apparently his only original plot — if 
indeed it deserve the name — and finally our present subject 
yl Midsummer-Night'' s Dream. 



4 SOURCES AND ANALOGUES OF 

The problem — given the play — is to discover what parts 
of it Shakespeare conveyed from elsewhere, and to investi- 
gate those sources as far as is compatible with the limits 
of this book. For this purpose, it is most convenient to 
adopt the above-mentioned division into three component 
plots or tales ; and because these are rather loosely woven 
together, the characters in the play may be simultaneously 
divided thus : — 



Theseus. 

Hippolyta. 

Egeus. 

Philostrate, 

Lysander. 

Demetrius. 

Helena. 
vHermia. 
f Bottom. 

Quince. 

Snug. 

Flute. 

Snout. 
^Starveling. 

Oberon. 

Titania. 

Puck. 
. Fairies. 



The main (sentimental) plot of the four 
lovers at the court of Theseus. 



The grotesque plot, with the interlude 
of Pyramus and Th'isbe. 



The fairy plot. 



'A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM' 



5 



It may be observed that for these three plots Shakespeare 
draws respectively on literature, observation, and oral tradition ; 
for we shall see, I think, that while there can be little doubt 
that he had been reading Chaucer, North's Plutarch and 
Golding's Ovid, not to mention other works, probably in- 
cluding some which are now lost, it is also impossible to 
avoid the conclusion that much if not all of his fairy-lore is 
derived from no literary source at all, but from the popular 
beliefs which must have been current in oral tradition in his 
youth. 



§ I. THE MAIN (SENTIMENTAL) PLOT OF 
THE FOUR LOVERS AND THE COURT 
OF THESEUS 

"And out of olde bokes, in good feith, 
Cometh al this newe science that men lere. " 

Chaucer. 



As the play opens with speeches of Theseus and Hippolyta, 
it is convenient to treat first of these two characters. Mr. 
E. K. Chambers has collected (in Appendix D to his 
edition) nine passages from North's Plutarch's Life of 
Theseus, of which Shakespeare appears to have made direct 
use. For example, O heron's references to " Perigenia," 
"Aegles," "Ariadne and Antiopa " (II. i, 79-80) are 
doubtless derived from North ; and certainly the reference 
by Theseus to his "kinsman Hercules" (V. i. 47) is 
based on the following passage : — 

..." they were near kinsmen, being cousins removed 
by the mother's side. For Aethra was the daughter 
of Pittheus, and Alcmena (the mother of Hercules) 
was the daughter of Lysidice, the which was half- 
sister to Pittheus, both children of Pelops and of his 
wife Hippodamia." 
In modern phraseology, Theseus and Hercules were thus 
second cousins. 

Of the Amazon queen North says : — 

" Touching the voyage he [Theseus] made by the 
sea Maior, Philochorus, and some other hold opinion, 
9 



lo SOURCES AND ANALOGUES OF 

that he went thither with Hercules against the Amazons, 
and that to honour his valiantness, Hercules gave him 
Antiopa the Amazon. But the more part of the other 
Historiographers ... do write, that Theseus went 
thither alone, after Hercules' voyage, and that he took 
this Amazon prisoner, which is likeliest to be true." 
At this point we should interpolate the reason why- 
Hercules went against the Amazons. The ninth (as usually 
enumerated) of the twelve labours of Hercules was to fetch 
away the girdle of the queen of the Amazons, a gift from 
her father Ares, the god of fighting. Admete, the daughter 
of Eurystheus (at whose bidding the twelve labours were 
performed) desired this girdle, and Hercules was sent by her 
father to carry it off by force. The queen of the Amazons 
was Hippolyta, and she had a sister named Antiopa. One 
story says that Hercules slew Hippolyta ; another that 
Hippolyta was enticed on board his ship by Theseus ; a third, 
as we have seen, that Theseus married Antiopa. It is not 
easy to choose incidents from these conflicting accounts so as 
to make a reasonable sequence ; but, as North says, " we are 
not to marvel, if the history of things so ancient, be found so 
diversely written." Shakespeare simply states that Theseus 
"woo'd" Hippolyta "with his sword." Later in the 
play we learn that the fairy King and Queen not only are 
acquainted with court-scandal, but are each involved with the 
past histories of Theseus and Hippolyta (IL i. 70-80), 
Apart from these incidents in Theseus' life, Chaucer 



«A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM' ii 

supplies the dramatist with all he requires in the opening 
of The Knight es Tale, which we shall discuss in full 
shortly. 1 

"Whyloni, as olde stories tellen us, 

Ther was a duke that highte^ Theseus; 

Of Athenes he was lord and governour, 

And in his tyme swich a conquerour, 

That gretter was ther noon under the Sonne. 

Ful many a riche contree hadde he wonne ; 

What with his wisdom and his chivalrye, 

He conquered al the regne ^ of Femenye, 

That whylom was y-cleped ■* Scithia; 

And weddede the quene Ipolita, 

And broghte hir hoom with him in his contree 

With muchel glorie and greet solempnitee, 

And eek hir yonge suster Emelye. 

And thus with victorie and with melodye 

Lete I this noble duke to Athenes ryde, 

And al his hoost, in armes, him besyde. 

And certes, if it nere^ to long to here, 
I wolde han told yow fully the manere, 
How wonnen was the regne of Femenye 
By Theseus, and by his chivalrye ; 
And of the grete bataille for the nones 
Betwixen Athenes and Amazones, 
And how asseged^ was Ipolita, 
The faire hardy quene of Scithia ..." 

1 For The Knightes Tale, seJ Prof. Skeat's edition (modern 
spelling) in the "King's Classics," and his excellent introduction. 
" was named * realm * called 

5 were not •* besieged 



12 SOURCES AND ANALOGUES OF 

Egeus, whom Shakespeare makes a courtier of Theseus 
and father to Hermia, is in the classical legend Aegeus, 
father of Theseus ; both Plutarch and Chaucer so mention 
him. 

The name of Philostrate also comes from Chaucer, where, 
as we shall see, it is the name adopted by Arcite when he 
returns to court in disguise, to become first " page of the 
chamber " to Emelye, and thereafter chief squire to Theseus. 
It is in this latter capacity that Chaucer's " Philostrate " 
is nearest to Shakespeare's character, the Master of the 
Revels. 

Of the four lovers, the names of Lysander, Demetrius, 
and Helena, are of course classical ; Shakespeare would find 
lives of Lysander and Demetrius in North's Plutarch. The 
name of Hermia, who corresponds with Emilia or Emily of 
The Knightes Tale, as being the lady on whom the affections 
of the two young men are set, may have been taken from the 
legend of Aristotle and Hermia, referred to more than 
once by Greene. The name cannot be called classical, and 
appears to be a mistranslation of Hermias.^ 

The story of Palamon and Arcite has not been traced 
beyond Boccaccio, that fountain of romance, though he 
himself says the tale of *' Palemone and Arcita " is " una 
antichissima storia." Possibly the story was taken, as much 
of Boccaccio's writing must have been taken, from tradition. 

^ See Mr. R. B. McKerrow's note on Nashe's reference to the 
name in Have ivith Tou to Saffron-Walden [Works, iil. III). 



'A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM' 13 

Palaemon is a classical name,i and Arcite might be a cor- 
ruption of Archytas. Boccaccio's Teseide (the story of 
Theseus) which was written about 1344, and may have 
been first issued wholly or in part under the title of 
j4ma%on'ide, is a poem in the vernacular consisting of twelve 
books and ten thousand lines in ottava r'lma.'^ 

Chaucer, in the Prologue to The Legend of Good Women 
(which is presumably earlier than the Canterbury Tales) 
states that he had already written 

". . . al the love of Palamon and Arcyte 
Of Thebes, thogh the story is knowen lyte."" 

Skeat says " some scraps are preserved in other poems " 
of Chaucer; he instances (i) ten stanzas from this Palamon 
and Arcite in a minor poem Anel'ida and Arcite^ where 
Chaucer refers to Statius, Thebais, xii. 519;'* (ii) three 

1 See Statius, Thebais, I, 13-14, etc. (Chaucer refers to " Stace 
of Thebes," Knightes Tale, 1436.) Athamas, having incurred the 
wrath of Hera, vsras seized with madness, and slew his son Learchus. 
His wife Ino threw herself, with his other son Melicertes, into the 
sea, and both were changed into sea-deities, Ino becoming Leu- 
cothea, and Melicertes Palaemon, whom the Greeks held to be 
friendly to the shipwrecked. The Romans identified him with 
Portunus, the protector of harbours. 

2 See Skeat's The Knight's Tale, xi-xv. 3 little. 

■* In this passage, Statius describes the meeting between Theseus, 
returning in triumph with Hippolyta, and the widows of those 
slain at the siege of Thebes, who complain that the tyrant Creon 
will not permit their husbands' bodies to be either burned or 



14 SOURCES AND ANALOGUES OF 

stanzas in Trol'ius and Criseyde ; and (iii) six stanzas in 
The Parlement of Foules, where the description of the Temple 
of Love is borrowed almost word for word from Boccaccio's 
Teseide} Finally, Chaucer used Palamon and Arcite as the 
basis of The Kn'tghtes Tale. By this time, while he retains 
what folk-lorists call the " story-radical," he has reduced 
Boccaccio's epic to less than a quarter of its length, and 
improved it in details. It stands as the first of The 
Canterbury Tales. 



ANALYSIS OF CHAUCER'S KNIGHTES TALE 

Old stories relate that once there was a Duke Theseus, 
lord of Athens, a conqueror of many lands. His latest 
conquest was " Femenye " (once called Scythia), whose 
queen Hippolyta he wedded and brought home, accompanied 
by her young sister Emilia. Now as he drew near to 
Athens, a company of ladies met him in the way, and laid 
before him their complaint, to the effect that, their husbands 
having fallen at the siege of Thebes, Creon the tyrant of 
Thebes would not let the bodies be buried or burned, but 
cast them on a heap and suffered the dogs to eat them. 

buried. This episode, as we shall see, is the opening of the Knightes 
Tale, and reappears in a modified form in The Tivo Noble Kinsmen. 

1 J. M. Rigg's introduction to his translation of the Decameron 
(1903). 



'A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM' 15 

Duke Theseus, having sworn to avenge this wrong, sent 
Hippolyta and Emilia to Athens, and rode to Thebes, 
where in full battle he fought and slew Creon, and razed 
the city. The due obsequies were then performed.^ 

Amongst the slain were found, half-dead, two young 
knights named Palamon and Arcite, whom the heralds 
recognised, from the cognisances on their armour, as of 
blood-royal, and born of two sisters. Theseus sent them 
to Athens to be held to ransom in prison perpetually, and 
himself returned home in triumph. 

So years and days passed, and Palamon and Arcite dwelt 
in durance in a tower ; till on a morrow of May it befel 
that the fair and fresh Emilia arose to do observance to 
May, and walked in the garden, gathering flowers and 
singing. Now in a high chamber of the tower, which 
adjoined the garden-wall, Palamon by leave of his gaoler 
was pacing to and fro and bewailing his lot, when he cast 
his eyes through the thick- barred window, and beheld 
Emilia in the garden below ; whereat he blenched, and 
cried out as though struck to the heart. Arcite heard 
him, and, asking him why he so cried out, bade him suffer 
imprisonment in patience ; but Palamon replied that the 
cause of his crying out was the beauty of the lady in the 

1 This opening, derived from Statius (see note, p. 13), serves 
merely to introduce the main story, much in the same way as 
the Theseus story in A Midsummer-Night's Dream is simply the 
"enveloping action " of the play. 



i6 SOURCES AND ANALOGUES OF 

garden. Thereupon Arcite spied out of the window at 
Emilia, and was so struck by her fairness 

"That if that Palamon was wounded sore, 
Arcite is hurt as muche as lie, or more." 

So strife began between the two. Palamon said it were 
small honour for Arcite to be false to his cousin and sworn 
brother, since each had taken an oath not to hinder the 
other in love ; nay, as a knight Arcite was bound to help 
him in his amour. But Arcite replied that love knows 
no law ; decrees of man are every day broken for love ; 
moreover Palamon and he were prisoners, and were like 
two dogs fighting for a bone which meantime a kite bears 
away. Let each continue in his love, for in prison each 
must endure. 

Now a duke name Pirithous came to visit his friend 
Theseus ; who being also a friend to Arcite begged Theseus 
to let him go free out of prison, which Theseus did. And 
Arcite was set free without rans£)m, but on condition that 
his life should be forfeit if he ever set foot again in any 
domain of Duke Theseus. 

Yet now Arcite found himself in no better stead, being 
banished from the sight of his lady ; and could even find 
it in his heart to envy Palamon, who might still blissfully 
abide in prison — nay, not in prison, in Paradise, where 
sometimes he might see her whom both loved. And on his 
part Palamon was jealous of Arcite, who might even now be 



'A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM' 17 

calling together his kin in Thebes to make onslaught on 
Athens and win his lady Emilia. 

" Yow loveres axe I now this questioun, 
Who hath the worse, Arcite or Palamoun ? " 

Now when Arcite had for a year or two endured this 
torment, he dreamed one night that the god Mercury 
appeared to him, and said to him, " To Athens shalt thou 
wend." Whereupon Arcite started up, and saw in the 
mirror that his sufferings had so changed him that he might 
live in Athens unknown. So he clad himself as a labourer, 
and went with one squire to Athens, and offered his service 
at the court, where for a year or two he was page of the 
chamber to Emilia, and passed under the name of Philostrate. 
And in the course of time he was so honoured that Theseus 
took notice of him, and made him squire of his own chamber, 
and maintained him nobly. 

Meantime Palamon had lain seven years in prison, when 
it befel on the third day of May (as the old books that tell 
this story say) that, aided by a friend, he broke prison, having 
given his gaoler to drink of drugged wine, and so fled the 
city, and lay hid in a grove. Hither by chance came Arcite 
to do observance to May ; and first Palamon heard him sing 

" Wel-come be thou, faire fresshe May; 
I hope that I som grene gate may," 

and thereafter fall into a study, as lovers will, lamenting his 
hard fate that he should be passing under a false name, and 

c 



i8 SOURCES AND ANALOGUES OF 

daily be slain by the eyes of Emilia. Whereat Palamon 
started up, and reproached him, and challenged him to fight; 
and Arcite answered him no less boldly, saying he would 
bring him arms and weapons on the morrow, as well as meat 
and drink and bedding for the night. 

So on the morrow the two donned their harness, helping 
each other to arm, and then fell a-fighting, Palamon like a 
wild lion, and Arcite like a cruel tiger, till they were ankle- 
deep in blood. 

On the same day rode forth Theseus with Hippolyta and 
Emilia to hunt the hart, and Theseus was aware of the two 
knights fighting. He spurred his steed between them, and 
cried to them to hold their hands. And Palamon told him 
who they were, and why they fought. Theseus at first was 
angry, and condemned them both to death ; but when the 
queen Hippolyta and Emilia and the ladies of their train 
pleaded for them, he relented, bethinking himself of what 
love is, for he himself had been a servant [lover] in his time ; 
wherefore, at the request of the queen and Emilia, he 
forgave them, if they would swear to do his country no harm, 
and be his friends. And when they had sworn, he reasoned 
with them, that each was worthy to wed Emilia, but that 
both could not so do ; therefore let each depart for a year, 
and gather to him a hundred knights, and then return to 
tourney in the lists for the hand of Emilia. 

"Who loketh lightly now but Palamoun ? 
Who springeth up for joye but Arcite?" 



«A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM' 19 

And thanking him on their linees, they took their leave and 
rode away. 

Royal were the lists which Theseus made, a mile in 
circuit, and walled with stone. Eastward and westward 
were marble gates, whereon were built temples of Venus and 
Mars, while in a turret on the north wall was a shrine of 
Diana goddess of chastity. And each temple was nobly 
carven and wrought with statues and pictures. 

Now the day of the tourney approached, and Palamon 
and Arcite returned each with a hundred knights. 

"To fighte for a lady, ben cite! 
It were a lusty sighte for to see." 

Palamon brought with him Ligurge king of Thrace, and 
with Arcite was Emetreus, the king of India, each a 
giant in might. So on a Sunday they all came to the 
city. 

And in the night, ere dawn, Palamon arose and went to 
the temple of Venus to pray that he might win Emilia for 
his wife ; and, as it seemed, in answer to his prayer, the 
statue of Venus shook, and Palamon held it for a sign that 
the boon he asked was granted. Emilia meanwhile went to 
the temple of Diana, and prayed to the goddess, that she might 
remain a virgin, and that the hearts of Palamon and Arcite 
might be turned from her ; or, if she needs must wed one of 
the twain, let him be the one that most desired her. To her 
appeared the goddess Diana, and told her that she must be 



20 SOURCES AND ANALOGUES OF 

wedded to one of the two, but she might not tell which that 
one should be. 

And Arcite went to the temple of Mars, and prayed for 
victory; whereat the door of the temple clattered, and the 
fires blazed up on the altar, while the hauberk on the god's 
statue rang, and Arcite heard a murmur of *' Victory." So 
rejoicing thereat he returned home 

"As fayn as fowel is of the brighte sonne." 

Thereafter in the heavens above strife began betwixt Mars 
and Venus, such that Jupiter himself was troubled to quell it ; 
till Saturn (the father of Venus) comforted his daughter with 
assurance that Palamon should win his lady. 

That day was high festival in Athens, and all Monday 
they justed and feasted, but went betimes to rest that they 
might rise early to see the great light. And on the morrow 
there were lords and knights and squires, armourers, yeomen 
and commoners, and steeds and palfreys, on every hand, and 
all was ready. 

Now a herald proclaimed from a scaffold the will of Duke 
Theseus, decreeing the weapons with which the tourney 
should be fought, and the rules of the combat. Then with 
trumpets and music, Theseus and Hippolyta and Emilia in 
a noble procession took their places ; and from the west gate 
under the temple of Mars came Arcite with a red banner, and 
from the east, under the temple of Venus, Palamon with a 
white banner. And the names of the two companies were 



«A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM' 21 

recited, the heralds left pricking up and down, the trumpet 
and clarion sounded, and the just began. Sore was the fight, 
and many were wounded and by the duke's proclamation 
removed from the fight ; and many a time fought Palamon 
and Arcite together. But everything must have an end ; 
Emetreus gave Palamon a wound ; and though Ligurge 
attempted his rescue, he was borne down ; and though 
Emetreus was thrust from his saddle by Palamon, Palamon 
was wounded, and had to give up the combat and the hope 
of winning Emilia. And Theseus cried to them that the 
tourney was finished, and that Arcite should have the lady ; 
whereat the rejoicing of the people was loud. 

But in heaven Venus wept, so that her tears fell down into 
the lists ; yet Saturn promised that her sorrow should be eased 
soon. 

And in truth as Arcite rode in triumph down the lists, 
looking up at Emilia, Pluto, at the bidding of ^Saturn, sent 
from hell a fury, that started from the ground in front of 
Arcite's horse, which shied and threw his rider ; and Arcite 
pitched on his head, and lay as though dead. They bore 
him to Theseus' palace, cut his harness from off him, and 
laid him in a bed. 

Theseus for three days entertained the knights of the 
tourney, and then all of them went their several ways. But 
Arcite lay dying ; no longer had Nature any power ; 

"And certeinly, ther nature w^ol nat wirche, 
Far-wel, phisyk ! go her the man to chirche 1 " 



22 SOURCES AND ANALOGUES OF 

On his deathbed he called Palaraon and Emilia to his side, 
and bade farewell to his heart's queen, commending Palamon 
to her, 

"As in this world right now ne knowe I non 

So worthy to ben loved as Palamon 

That serveth yow, and wol don al his lyf. 

And if that ever ye shul been a wyf, 

Forget nat Palamon, the gentil man." 

And his speech failed him, and his strength went out of him ; 
but he still kept his eyes fixed on his lady, and his last word 
was " Mercy, Emilye ! " 

Theseus gave Arcite a costly funeral, and built his funeral 
pyre in the grove where Palamon had heard him lament on 
the morning of May. And when by process of time the 
grief and mourning for Arcite had ceased, Theseus sent for 
Palamon and Emilia ; and, with wise words bidding them be 
merry after woe, gave Emilia to Palamon, who wedded her, 
and they lived in bliss and in richness and in health. 

" Thus endeth Palamon and Emelye, 
And God save all this faire companye I " 

Such is Chaucer's tale of Palamon and Arcite. It was 
dramatised before Shakespeare's day by Richard Edwardes 
in a play now lost. Possibly the play of <' Palamon and 
Arcite," four times recorded — in four different spellings — 
by Henslowe in his Diary,^ is Edwardes' play, but as the 

^ W. W. Greg's edition, i. 19-20, ii. 168. Henslowe's dates 
for the performances are 17 September, i6 and 27 October, and 



♦A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM' 23 

latter was performed at Oxford before Queen Elizabeth 
as early as 1566, it is at least equally possible that 
Henslowe's play is another version. 

The complete Chaucerian form of the story of Palamon 
and Arcite is dramatised in The Tivo Noble Kinsmen, a play to 
which Shakespeare undoubtedly ^ contributed. The changes 
made by the authors — Fletcher and Massinger or Shakespeare, 
or all three — are little more than such limitations as are 
demanded by dramatic form ; for instance, the Kinsmen, 
when discovered fighting, are dismissed for a month to find 
three knights, instead of being given a year to find one 
hundred. Chaucer's hint, that Palamon was assisted to escape 
from prison by a friend, is developed by the dramatists to 
make the sub-plot of the gaoler's daughter. The character- 
drawing is far more subtle than the poet's ; Chaucer leaves 
the reader's sympathies equally divided, despite the fact that 
he says plainly that Arcite was in the wrong, because he 
violated the compact of the two kinsmen to assist each other 
in love. 

We must now consider what justification there is for 



9 November, 1594. Against the first entry are the much-discussed 
letters " ne," which appear to mark a new play. It will be seen 
that according to the theory that A Midsummer-Night' s Dream 
belongs to the winter of 1594-5, this Palamon and Arcite play was 
performed immediately before. 

1 Professor Gollancz considers that Shakespeare had no hand in 
the play. 



24 SOURCES AND ANALOGUES OF 

believing that the main plot of A Midsummer- Night^ s Dream 
was suggested by The Kn'ightes Tale. Firstly, as has already 
been pointed out, the nuptials of Theseus form the beginning 
of both play and poem ; though in the poem the actual cere- 
mony has been performed, and it is his triumphant return to 
the city of Athens that is interrupted by the widows' appeal 
for justice ; and in the play the action passes in the three or 
four days before the marriage. Secondly, the wedding-day 
is the first of May, and there are two references to that 
** observance of May " ^ which is given by Chaucer as the 
reason both for Emilia's walking in the garden and for 
Arcite's seeking of the grove where Palamon lay hid.^ 
Thirdly, it can hardly be doubted that Shakespeare took the 
name of Philostrate from Chaucer ; Egeus he would find 
also in North's Plutarch as the name of the father of Theseus ; 

1 Cf. I. i. 167 and IV. i. 129-30. 

2 It is perhaps fantastic to interpret too literally Arcite's song to 
May — "I hope that I som grene gete may" — but, however little 
of their primitive significance now remains, celebration of the 
rites of May is by no means extinct. See E. K. Chambers, The 
Mediaeval Stage, I. 117: " their object is to secure the beneficent 
influence of tlae fertilization spirit by bringing the persons or places 
to be benefited into direct contact with the physical embodiment of 
that spirit." 

Shakespeare's apparent confusion of a May-day with a Mid- 
summer-night may seem pardonable to the folk-lorist in the light 
of the fact that various folk -festivals appear to take place indis- 
criminately on May-day or Midsummer-day. See Chambers, op. 
cit. i. 114, 118, 126. 



A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM' 25 

and it is possible that Chaucer's names for the champions, 
Ligurge and Emetreus, may have suggested Lysander and 
Demetrius. Finally, there are two or three minor indica- 
tions ; Lysander and Demetrius fight, or attempt to fight, 
fiar Helena, in the " wood near Athens," just as Palamon 
and Arcite fight for Emilia in the grove ^ ; Theseus is a keen 
huntsman both in the poem and in the play ^ ; and he refers ^ 
to his conquest of Thebes, which, as we have seen, is 
described in The Knightes Tale. 

Apart from these details, I do not think Shakespeare is 
indebted to Chaucer. It is conceivable that the story of 
Palamon and Arcite affected, but did not supply, the plot of 
the four lovers in A Midsummer-Night' s Dream; but Shake- 
speare has added a second woman. This completion of the 
antithesis is characteristic of his early work ; with a happy 
ending in view, the characters must fall into pairs, whereas 
with Palamon, Arcite, and Emilia, one of the men must be 
removed. There is nothing to prevent the supposition that 
Shakespeare was acquainted from boyhood with Chaucer's 
story — either in Chaucerian form or possibly in the shape of 
a chap-book — and that he constructed a first draft of The 
T1V0 Noble Kinsmen quite early in his career as a playwright, 
subsequently laying it aside as unsatisfactory, and, in his de- 
clining years, collaborating with another or others to produce 
the play on that theme. 

1 Cf. III. ii. 331 and 401, etc, 

a Cf. IV. i. 100-183. ^ In V. i. 51. 



2. THE GROTESQUE PLOT: BOTTOM AND 
THE ASS'S HEAD: WITH THE INTER- 
LUDE OF PT RAMUS AND THIS BE 

"But, for I am a man noght textuel, 
I wol noght telle of textes never a del ; 
I wol go to my tale." — Chaucer. 



II 

The second portion of our study will not detain us long, 
as there are no literary sources for the "rude mechanicals," 
and their interlude of Pyramus and Thisbe is derived from 
a well-known classical story. Shakespeare draws them from 
life, and from his own observation of Warwickshire rustics, 
as he drew the two Gobbos, Launce, Christopher Sly, and 
a host of minor characters. Doubtless he had met many of 
the crew of patches, perhaps beneath the roof of " Marian 
Hacket, the fat ale-wife of Wincot," where we may sup- 
pose him to have made merry with " Stephen Sly, and 
old John Naps of Greece, and Peter Turf, and Henry 
Pimpernell." 

Bottom takes his name from the wooden reel or spool 
on which thread is wound ; " bottom " simply meaning the 
base or foundation of the reel. The names of his comrades 
have no specific connection with the trades they ply ; but 
" Starveling " is appropriate by tradition for a tailor — it 
takes seven tailors to make a man. 

The episode of Bottom's " translation," or transformation 
into an ass, may have been suggested to Shakespeare by a 
passage in Reginald Scot's Discovery of Witchcraft (1584) 

29 



30 SOURCES AND ANALOGUES OF 

— a book with which he must have been acquainted, as we 
shall see in discussing the fairy-section of the play. Scot 
mentions the supposed power of witches to change men into 
animals, and quotes (in order to discredit) some recorded 
instances. Chief among these is the story ^ of an English 
sailor abroad, who got into the power of a witch and was 
transformed by her into an ass, so that when he attempted to 
rejoin his crew, he was beaten from the gangway with 
contempt. This will be found in the third chapter of Scot's 
fifth book : Of a man turned into an asse, and returned aga'tne 
into a man by one of Bodins ivitches : S. Augustine's opinion 
thereof " Bodin " is Jean Bodin, who wrote a book de 
Magorum Daemonomania (1581 ; a French version was 
published in the previous year), and mentions this story (lib. 
2, cap. vi.). According to Scot, Bodin takes the story 
"out of M. Mai. \_Malleus Malejicarum~\, which tale was 
delivered to Sprenger by a knight of the Rhodes." 

Scot mentions further the famous story of the Golden Ass 
of Apuleius 2 ; a legend of the reappearance of one of the 
Popes, a hundred years after his death, with an ass's head ; 
and gives a charm to put an ass's head on a man.^ 

From these instances a literary origin for Bottom's trans- 
formation seems probable ; but Shakespeare may himself 

1 Reprinted in this book, p. 135. 

2 He might have added Lucius the Ass, a similar tale by Lucian of 
Samosata. 

^ Reprinted in this book, p. 139. 



«A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM' 31 

have fallen in with a survival of the witch-superstition. 
Almost while writing these words I receive first-hand 
evidence that such a tradition is not yet extinct in Welford- 
on-Avon, a village, four miles from Stratford, with which 
Shakespeare must have been perfectly familiar. The witch, 
as usual, was an old woman, credited with the " evil eye " 
and the power of causing the death of cattle and farm-stock 
by *' overlooking " them ; and the native of Welford, from 
whom the story was communicated to me, would be prepared 
to produce eye-witnesses of various transformations of the old 
woman into some kind of animal — transformations effected 
not only at Welford, but even in the centre of Stratford on 
market-day 1 

Shakespeare had probably met with the story of Pyramus 
and Thisbe in more than one form. Golding's translation in 
1575 of the story in Ovid's Metamorphoses^ is reprinted in 
this book 2 ; Chaucer included the Legend of Thisbe of Baby- 
lon as the second story in the Legend of Good Women ; and 
there appears to have been also " a boke intituled Perymus 
and Thesbye," for which the Stationers' Register record the 
granting of a license in 1562. There is, too, a poem on the 
subject by I. Thomson in Robinson's Handeful of Pleasant 
D elites (1584). 

The Historia de Piramo e Tisbe was very early in print in 
Italy, and continued to be popular in chap-book form until the 
nineteenth century at least. 

1 Ovid, Met, iv. 55, sqq. ^ See p. 73. 



32 SOURCES AND ANALOGUES 

In his commentary on A Midsummer-Night^ s Dream in 
the larger Temple Shakespeare, Professor Gollancz points 
out the existence of a Pyramus and Thisbe play, discovered 
by him in a manuscript at the British Museum.^ This MS. 
is a Cambridge commonplace book of about 1630, contain- 
ing poems attributed to Ben Jonson, Sir Walter Raleigh and 
others, though the greater portion of the contents appear to 
be topical verses and epigrams unsigned. Amongst these is 
" Tragaedia miserrima Pyrami & Thisbes fata enuncians. 
Historia ex Publio Ovidio deprompta. Authore N.R." 
In the margins are written corresponding passages in Latin 
from Ovid, whose story it follows closely. 

The play is in blank verse of a poor kind with occasional 
rhyming couplets. After a prologue begins " Actus Primus 
and ultimus " ; there are only five scenes in all, and the 
whole is quite short. The characters consist of Iphidius, 
father of Pyramus ; Labetrus, father of Thisbe ; their 
children, the protagonists ; their respective servants, Straton 
and Clitipho ; and Casina, " ancilla " or handmaid to Thisbe. 
There is also " a raging Hones from ye woods." The 
moral of the play, as stated by Iphidius, is that 

" the erraticall motions in children's actions 
Must to a regular form by parents be reduc'd. " 

These lines, and others in the play, would gain by being 
"reduc'd to a regular form." 

1 Addl. MS. 15227, f. s6h. 



§ 3- THE FAIRY PLOT 

Si^cles charmants de feerie, 

Vous avez pour moi mille attraits, 
Que de fois dans le reverie, 

Mon coeur vous donne de regrets. 
Tout ne fut alors que mensonge aimable ; 

Tout n'est plus que reality ; 
Rien n'est si jolie que la fable, 

Si triste que la verite 1 



in 

In The Midsummer-Night^ s Dream, Shakespeare presents 
a conception of fairy-land as original as that which owes 
its propagation to Perrault and the other French collectors 
of fairy-tales ; its merits as a popular delineation of the 
fairy-world are proved by the fact that it has obtained the 
sanction and approval of tradition, passing almost at once 
into an accepted literary convention ; so that even to-day 
it is not easy to shake off the inherited impression that 
the fairies are only what Shakespeare shows them to be. 
He did not, of course, invent them ; he had doubtless both 
read of them and heard tales of them ; but he invested them 
with a delicate and graceful fancy that has held the popular 
imagination ever since. Thanks to him, the modern English 
conception of the fairies is different from the conceptions 
prevalent in other countries, and infinitely more picturesque 
and pleasant. 

As before, it will be convenient to deal first with the 
names of his characters. 

Oberon is the English transliteration of the French 
Auberon in the romance of Huon of Bordeaux^ and Auberon 

35 



36 SOURCES AND ANALOGUES OF 

is probably merely the French counterpart of Alberich or 
Albrich, a dwarf occurring in the German Nibelungenlied 
and other works. Etymologically Alberich is composed 
of alb = elf and rich = king. The name Oberon appears 
first in English literature in Lord Berners' translation of 
Huon of Bordeaux (c. 1534), and afterwards in Spenser ^ 
and in Robert Greene's play James IF", which was acted 
in 1589.2 But the king of the fairies in Chaucer ^ is Pluto, 
and the queen Proserpine. 

Titania. Proserpine is the wife of Pluto (in Greek 
form, Persephone, wife of Dis). In Elizabethan times. 
Campion's charming poem " Hark, all you ladies that do 
sleep"'* keeps the name of "the fairy-queen Proserpina." 
Shakespeare appears to have taken the name Titania from 
Ovid,^ who uses it as an epithet of Diana, as being the 
sister of Sol or Helios, the Sun-god, a Titan. Scot, in 
his Discovery of Witchcraft^^ gives Diana as one of the 
names of the " lady of the fairies " ; and James I, in his 

1 Faerie ^een, II. i. 6, II. x. 75. 

2 See A. W. Ward's English Dramatic Literature, i. 400, ii. 85. 

3 The Marchanles Tale, 983 (Skeat, E. 2227). 

* A. H. BuUen's edition of Campion (1903), p. 20. 

5 Metamorphoses, iil. 173. Ovid, in the same work, uses 
"Titania" also as an epithet of Latona (vi. 346), Pyrrha (i. 395), 
and Circe (xiv. 382, 438). The fact that Golding gives "Phebe" 
as the translation of "Titania" in iii. 173, is a strong piece of 
evidence that Shakespeare sometimes at least read his Ovid in the 
Latin. 

^ Ed. Brinsley Nicholson, p. 32. Book III, chap. ii. (See p. 135.) 



'A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM' 37 

Demonology (1597) refers to a "fourth kind of sprites, 
which by the Gentiles was called Diana and her wandering 
court, and amongst us called the Phairie." 

Curiously enough in Shakespeare's most famous descrip- 
tion of the Fairy Queen, she is called Queen Mab ; ^ this 
is said to be of Celtic derivation. Mercutio's catalogue 
of Mab's attributes and functions corresponds closely with 
the description of Robin Goodfellow. 

Puck is strictly not a proper name ; and in the quartos 
and folios of A Midsummer-Night^ s Dream, Puck, Robin, 
and Robin Goodfellow are used indiscriminately. In no 
place in the text is he addressed as " Puck " ; it is always 
"Robin "2 (once 3 "Goodfellow" is added). In the 
last lines of the play he twice refers to himself as "«« 
honest Puck " and " the Puck," ^ showing that the word 
is originally a substantive. Dr. J. A. H. Murray has very 
kindly allowed the slips of the Neiv English Dictionary 
which contain notes for the article ' Puck ' to be inspected ; 
his treatment of the word will be awaited with much interest. 
The earliest and most important reference is to Prof. A. S. 
Napier's Old English Glosses (1900), 191, where in a list of 
glosses of the eleventh century to Aldhelm's Aenigmata 

1 Romeo and Juliet, I. iv. 53, sqq. 

2 In II, i, 40, " sweet puck " is no more a proper name than 
"Hobgoblin"; so also in 1. 148 of the same scene. In neither 
case should the name be printed with a capital P. 

3 II. i. 34. •» V. i. 418, 421. 



38 SOURCES AND ANALOGUES OF 

occurs " larbula [i. e. iarvula], puca." Prof. Napier notes 
that O. E. puca, " a goblin," whence N. E. Puck, is a well 
authenticated word. Dr. Bradley suggests that the source 
might be a British word, from which the Irish puca would 
be borrowed ; this word pooka, as well as the allied poker, 
has already been treated in the N. E. D. Puck, pouke, we 
find in O. E. (Old English Miscellany, E. E. T. S., 76), 
in Piers Plowman, and surviving in Spenser ; but there are 
countless analogous forms : puckle, pixy, pisgy, in English, 
and perhaps (through Welsh) bug, the old word for bugbear, 
bogy, bogle, etc. ; puki in Icelandic ; pickel in German ; and 
many more.' 

We may note here the euphemistic tendency to call 
powerful spirits by propitiatory names. Just as the Greeks 
called the Furies " Eumenides," the benevolent ones, so 
is Robin called Goo^-fellow ; the ballad of Tam Lin ^ refers 
to them as "gude neighbours"; the Gaels ^ term a fairy 
" a woman of peace " ; and Professor Child points out the 
same fact in relation to the neo-Greek nereids,'* Hence 
also '■'■ siveet puck." ^ The names of the four attendant 

1 Wright, English Dialect Dictionary^ s.v. Puck, gives Scotland, 
Ireland, Derby, Worcester, Shropshire, Gloucester, Sussex and 
Hampshire as localities where the name is recorded. 

2 Text H in Child's Ballads, I. 352. 

2 Campbell's Popular Tales of the West Highla/ids (1890), vol. ii, 
tales XXV, xxvi, etc. 

■* Ballaas, I. 314, and note. 

5 M.N.D., II. i. 40. (See note on p. 37.) 



'A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM' 39 

fairies, Peaseblossom, Cobweb, Moth, and Mustard-seed, 
are Shakespeare's invention, chosen perhaps to typify grace, 
lightness, speed, and smallness. 

The literary sources on which Shakespeare, in writing 
of fairies, probably drew — or those, at least, on which he 
could have drawn — can be shortly stated. We have already 
mentioned Scot's Discovery of Witchcraft (^1^%^^; this was 
no doubt the chief source of information regarding Puck 
or Robin Goodfellow, as well as of the fairies themselves. 
Shakespeare was doubtless also familiar with the treatment 
accorded to the fairy-world by Chaucer ^ and Spenser - 
and with the many tales of supernatural beings in romances 
like Huo7i of Bordeaux and others of the Arthurian cycle. 
There is also a black-letter tract concerning Robin Good- 
fellow,^ but no one has yet proved that this pamphlet was 
in print before 1628, the date of the earliest surviving 
edition. Ultimately, however, this matters little, because the 
tract is evidently drawn largely from oral traditions about 
Robin, and so has a source common with that of much of 
Shakespeare's fairy-lore. 

Minor allusions, chiefly to Robin Goodfellow, he may 

1 The Wyf of Bathe s Tale, at the beginning; and elsewhere. 

2 The Faerie ^jieen, chiefly in Book II, where in Canto X, stanzas 
70-76, he gives a fictitious list of the generations of fairies ; the first 
" Elfe " was the image made by Prometheus, to animate which he 
stole fire from heaven ; the list ends with Oberon, and Tanaquil 
the Faerie Queen. 

•* Reprinted in this book, pp. 81-121. 



40 SOURCES AND ANALOGUES OF 

have met with in various works ^ published before the 
assumed date of the play ; but these, again, add nothing 
which Shakesjieare could not have learned just as well from 
the superstitions of his day. What these were, and how he 
handled them, we must now proceed to discuss. 

In approaching a subject such as fairy-lore, it is necessary 
to prepare the mind of the reader to go back to days not 
merely pre-Christian but even pre-national. Our fairies can 
no more justly be called English than can our popular poetry. 
Folk-lore — the study of the traditional beliefs and customs 
of the common people — is a science invented centuries too 
late ; ^ for lack of evidence, it is largely theoretical. But it 
teaches its students continually to look further afield, and to 
compare the tales, ballads, superstitions, rites, and mythologies 
of one country with those of another. The surprising results 
thus obtained must not make us think that one country has 
borrowed from another ; we must throw our minds back to a 
common ancestry^and common creeds. " The attempt to dis- 
criminate modern national characteristics in the older stratum 
of European folk-lore is not only idle but mischievous, because 

^ Mr. Chambers, in his edition of the play, Appendix A, § i8, 
gives (i) Tarltons Ne-ws out of Purgatory (1590) (see p. 63), (ii) 
Churchyard's Handfull of Gladsome Verses (1592) (see p. 141), (ill) 
Nashe's Terrors of the Night (1594). 

" The wovdfoU-lore has only been in existence sixty years, and 
the science is very little older ; it was vaguely referred to as 
" popular antiquities " before that time. 



'A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM' 41 

it is based upon the unscientific assumption that existing 
differences, which are the outcome of comparatively recent 
historical conditions, have always existed." These are the 
wise words of a sound folk-lorist,^ and should be laid to 
heart by all who take up the study. 

We cannot begin to investigate the origins of the fairy 
superstition in the cradle of the world ; we must be content 
to realise that there was a creed concerning supernatural 
beings common to all the European branches of the Aryan 
peoples, Greek, Roman, Celt or Teuton. When Thomas 
Nashe wrote in 1 594 of " the Robbin-good-fellowes, Elfes, 
Fairies, Hobgoblins of our latter age, which idolatrous 
former dales and the fantasticall world of Greece ycleaped 
Fanunesy Satyres, Dryades, and Hamadryades" he spoke 
more truly than he knew.- 

First of all, let us consider the •vtovd fairy. Strictly, this 
is a substantive meaning either " the land of the fays," or else 
" the fay-people " collectively ; it is also used as an equiva- 
lent for " enchantment." It was originally, therefore, in- 
correct to speak of " a fairy " ;3 the singular term is *'is a 
fay," as opposed to '•^ the fairy." Fay is derived, through 
French, from the Low Latin fata, misunderstood as a 

1 Alfred Nutt, The Fairy Mythology oj Shakespeare (1900), p. 24. 
This little book is instructive and valuable. 

" Nashe's Works, ed. R. B. McKerrow, i. 347. 

3 Gower, however, does so, as early as the fourteenth century ; 
Confessio Amantis, ii. 37 1. 



42 SOURCES AND ANALOGUES OF 

feminine singular ; it is in fact the plural of Fatum, and 
means "the Fates." 

Reversing the chronological order, let us proceed to com- 
pare the functions of these beings. The Fates, whether the 
Greek Mo'irae or the Roman Parcae, were three in number, 
and were variously conceived as goddesses of birth or of 
death ; the elements of the primitive idea are, at least, com- 
prised in the conception that they allotted man his fate ; we 
may also note that the metaphor of spinning was used in 
connection with their duties. 

Leaving classical lands and times, we find in the tenth 
century, amongst the Eddie Lays of northern Europe, the 
following passage : — 

" It was in the olden days . . . when Helgi the stout of 
heart was born of Borghild, in Braeholt. Night lay over the 
house when the Fates came to forecast the hero's life. They 
said that he should be called the most famous of kings and 
the best among princes. With power they twisted the strands 
of fate for Borghild's son in Braeholt . . . " ^ 

Here the " Fates " are the " Norns " of the northern 
mythology. We find them practising the same functions 
again in twelfth century Saxo Grammaticus,- who calls them 

^ The opening of the beautiful Helgi and S'lgrun Lay, as translated 
by Vigfusson 5.nd York Powell in Corpus Poeticum Boreale (1883), i. 
131 ; see also the editors' Introduction, i. Ixi, Ixiv. 

- Danish History, iii. 70, 77 ; vi. 181 ; cf. O. Elton's translation 
(1894), pp. 84, 93, 223, and York Powell's introduction thereto, Ixiv. 



«A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM' 43 

" three maidens " ; their caprices are shown when two of 
them bestow good temper and beauty on Fridleif's son Olaf, 
and the third mars their gifts by endowing the boy with 
niggardliness. 

In commenting upon both the Eddie Lay and the Danish 
Historian, the editors remark that this point of the story — 
the bestowal of gifts at birth — survives in the chanson de gate 
of Ogier the Dane,^ whose relations with the fairy-world 
may be narrated shortly as follows.^ 

At the birth of Ogier the Dane, five fairies promised him 
strength, bravery, success, beauty, and love ; after them came 
Morgan le Fay, whose gift was that, after a glorious career, 
Ogier should come to live with her at her castle of Avalon. 
When the hero was over a hundred years of age, Morgan 
caused him to be wrecked near Avalon. In his wanderings 
he comes to an orchard, where he eats an apple. A beauti- 

1 " It is worth noting that the Romance of Olger the Dane contains 
several late echoes of the old Helgi myth. a. The visit of the 
fairies by night to the new-born child . . . e. His return to earth 
after death or disappearance , . . Mark that Holgi is the true 
old form . . . The old hero Holgi and the Carling peer Otgeir 
(Eadgar) are distinct persons confused by later tradition." — Corpus 
Poetlcum Boreale, i. cxxx. 

"The Fates . . , bestow endowments on the new-born child, as 
in the beautiful Helge Lay ... a point of the story which sur- 
vives in the Ogier of the Chansons de Geste, wherein Eadgar 
(Otkerus or Otgerus) gets what belonged to Holger (Holge), the 
Helga til of Beowulf's Lay." — Saxo, Danish History, Ixiv. 

2 Cf. Child's Ballads, i. 319. 



44 SOURCES AND ANALOGUES OF 

ful lady approaches whom he mistakes for the Virgin ; but 
she tells him she is Morgan le Fay. She puts a ring on his 
finger and he becomes young ; she puts a crown on his head, 
and he forgets the past. For two hundred years he lives in 
unearthly delights, and the years seem to him to be but 
twenty. He then returns to earth to champion Christendom ; 
but after triumphing over his foes he returns to Avalon.^ 

The tale of Ogier was long popular in Denmark — of 
which country he is the national hero — and also in France ; 
and the notion of supernatural gifts at birth has obtained a 
very wide vogue. But Ogier's story also exhibits another 
very popular piece of superstition — that of a journey to 
or a sojourn in the supernatural world. ^ Our English 

1 In Huon of Bordeaux Merlin comes vi^ith King Arthur to Oberon's 
death-bed ; Arthur introduces him as his nephew, the son of Ogier 
the Dane and "my sister Morgan." 

2 The mere mention of these subterranean explorations opens up 
an immense field of discussion and speculation that can here be 
only relegated to a note ; we can treat at greater length none but 
those legends which bear directly on our subject. Odysseus visited 
Hades, Aeneas descended to Orcus or Tartarus, and they have their 
counterparts in every land and every mythology. Human aetio- 
logical tendencies supply explanations of any cavern or natural 
chasm— even a volcano must be the mouth of the entrance to hell or 
purgatory — from Taenarus, where Pluto carried off Proserpine, and 
the Sibyl's cavern, whence Aeneas sought the lower regions, to the 
famous Lough Dearg in Donegal, the entrance to "St. Patrick's 
Purgatory," and the Peak cavern in Derbyshire. The student 
may begin his researches with T. Wright's St. Fatrici's Purgatory 
(1844). A very common tale in Celtic literature is that of the 



*A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM' 45 

parallel to Ogier, as Professor Child points out,^ is Thomas 
of Erceldoune. 

This leads us to the consideration of three English metrical 
Romances, which in all probability are derived from French 
sources, containing accounts of the visits to fairy-land made 
by Thomas of Erceldoune, Launfal, and Orfeo. The first 
and last of these are also known in the form of ballads ; 
whether these ballads derive directly from the romances, or 
may be supposed to have existed side by side with them in 
the fifteenth century, is a question which must not delay us 
here. The romances and the ballads may all have been 
known to Shakespeare in book-form or in tradition. 

The romance of Thomas of Erceldoune is a poem in three 
** fyttes " or sections, which is preserved wholly or in part in 
five manuscripts, of which the earliest may be dated about 
1435. The poem tells us that Thomas of Erceldoune's 
prophetic power was a gift from the queen of Elf-land, 
with whom he paid a visit to her realm. The first " fytte " 
is occupied in narrating his sojourn ; 2 while the other two 
set forth the predictions with which the queen supplied him. 
The romance is probably of Scottish origin, as the prophecies 
treat mainly of Scottish history ; but the first " fytte " 
(which alone concerns us here, and indeed appears to be 

visit of some hero to the underworld and his seizure of some gift 
of civilisation — just as Prometheus stole fire from heaven. 

1 Ballads, loc. cit. 

2 A version of Fytte I will be found in this book, pp. 122-132. 



46 SOURCES AND ANALOGUES OF 

separate in origin from the other two) refers to an " older 
story." This, Professor Child says, " was undoubtedly a 
romance which narrated the adventure of Thomas with the 
elf queen simply, without specification of his prophecies." 

Doubtless the older story was not originally attached to 
Thomas of Erceldoune, who, as " Thomas Rymour of 
Ercildoune," is a historical character. He lived, as is 
proved by contemporary documents, in the thirteenth century, 
at Ercildoune (Earlstoun on the banks of the Leader in 
Berwickshire), and gained a reputation as a "rymour," i.e. 
a poet and prophet — in which character he was venerated by 
the folk for centuries. 

But the Rymour does not concern us ; the tale of a 
mortal's visit to elf-land would have been told of some one, 
whether Thomas or another; he was a prophet, and prophets 
needed explanation. His journey to fairy-land, as narrated 
in the fifteenth-century romance, survives in the well-known 
ballad of Thomas the Rhymer.^ 

Two points in romance and ballad may be noted, (i) In 
the romance the lady shows Thomas four roads, leading 
respectively to heaven, paradise, purgatory, and hell, besides 
the fair castle of Elf-land. The ballad is content with 
three roads, to heaven, hell, and Elf-land, (ii) Both in 

^ See Child's Ballads, No. 37, Thomas Rymer, i. 317-329; also 
the romance, Thomas of Erceldoune (E.E.T.S., 1875), where Prof. 
J. A. H. Murray prints all texts parallel, and adds a valuable 
introduction. 



«A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM' 47 

the romance and the ballad, and also in Ogier the Dane, the 
hero makes the same mistake, of supposing his supernatural 
visitor to be the Virgin Mary.^ 

A curious point about the first "fytte" is that it opens 
(11. 1-18) in the first person; at line 41 Thomas is 
mentioned, and the poem continues in the third person to 
the end, with a single and sudden change to the first in line 
208. I do not know whether any assumption as to the 
authorship of the romance can be based on such facts ; the 
" I " question in early popular poetry forms an interesting 
study in itself.- 

The English romance of Sir Launfal, which survives in 
a manuscript ^ of the fifteenth century, is therein said to have 
been " made by Thomas Chestre " ; but in fact it is chiefly 
a translation from Marie de France's lay of Lanval, dating 
from the middle of the thirteenth century. The translator, 
Thomas Chestre, has, however, taken incidents from other 
"lais" by Marie de France, and enlarged the whole until 
it is some three hundred lines longer than the French 
original. 

1 A similar episode survives in a Breton folk-tale, cited by 
Professor Kittredge in Child's Ballads, iii. 504. In Huon of Bordeaux 
(E.E.T.S. edition, p. 265), Charlemagne mistakes Oberon for 
God. 

2 See Gummere, The Popular Ballad (1907), pp. 66-7. 

3 Cottonian, Caligula A. II. A later version is at tlie Bodleian, 
MS. Raw^linson C. 86, and a Scottish version in Cambridge 
University Library, MS. Kk. 5. 30. 



48 SOURCES AND ANALOGUES OF 

Shakespeare may have read the tale in print. Sir Lambe- 
ivell appears to have been printed about 1558,1 and to have 
remained in circulation at least until 1575,^ but no complete 
copy is now known. A single MS. version of 1650 sur- 
vives, however, in the Percy Folio.^ This is another trans- 
lation from the same French original, but made by some one 
acquainted with Thomas Chestre's version. 

The story as told in the first of these manuscripts may be 
condensed as follows. Launfal had been ten years a steward 
to King Arthur before the King's marriage. He did not 
like Guinevere, who gave him no gift at her wedding ; so he 
asked leave of the King to go home and bury his father. He 
went to Caerleon, with two knights given him by Arthur, and 
sojourned with the mayor ; but when his money was spent, 
he fell into debt, and his knights returned to Arthur's court 
in rags ; but at Launfal' s request, they gave out that he was 
faring well. 

One day Launfal rode out in poor attire into the forest, 
and sat him under a tree to rest. After a while, two fair 

^ It was licensed to John Kynge the printer between 19 July 
1557 and 9 July 1558. See Arber, Stationers' Registers, i. 79. 
Two fragments are in the Bodleian ; see Hales and Furnivall, 
Bishop Percy's Folio Manuscript (1867), i. 521-535. 

2 In this year it is mentioned, as having been amongst Captain 
Cox's books, in Laneham's famous Letter. See Shakespeare Library 
reprint, p. xxx. 

^ Brit. Mus. MS. Addl. 27,879; see Hales and Furnivall, 
Bishop Percy s Folio Manuscript, i. 142. 



'A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM' 49 

damsels, beautifully attired and bearing a gold basin and a 
silk towel, approached him, and bade him come speak with 
their lady. Dame Triamour, daughter to the King of Olyroun, 
king of fairy. Launfal was led to where the lady lay, and 
" all his love in her was light." 

On the morrow she promised him rich presents, and said 
she would come to him whenever he wished for her in a 
secret place ; but he was never to boast of her love. Her 
presents came to him at the mayor's house of Caerleon, and 
he spent his riches charitably. 

The King, hearing of an exploit of Launfal's, summoned 
him back to court. The Queen tempted him, but he repulsed 
her by saying he loved a fairer woman ; this of course lost 
him Triamour. Guinevere (by a trick common in romances) 
accused Launfal to Arthur ; but he was saved from disgrace 
by the appearance of Triamour, who then carried him off 
into fairy-land to Olyroun. 

The romance of Sir Orpheo, a mediaeval version of the 
classical story of Orpheus and Eurydice, has come down to 
.us in three manuscripts,^ two of which are not quite complete, 
which are to be assigned to the fifteenth century at latest. 

1 Harl. 3810 (British Museum), printed by Ritson in Ancient 
English Metrical Romances (1802) ii. 248 ; the Auchinleck MS. (W. 4. 
I, in the Advocates' Library, Edinburgh), printed by D. Laing in 
Ancient Popular Poetry of Scotland, iii ; and Ashmolean 61 (Bodleian 
Library, Oxford), printed by Halliwell in his /a/ry ikfj//;^o/<>g-^, p. 36. 
The three are collated by O. Zielke, Sir Orfeo (Breslau 1880), a fully 
annotated edition. The last is used here. 



50 SOURCES AND ANALOGUES OF 

As in the case of Launfal, it is doubtless a translation from 
the French ; but as there is no extant original, this can only 
be presumed. Orpheus becomes Orpheo or Orfeo, and 
Eurydice becomes Erodys, Heurodis, or Meroudys ; in the 
last the initial letter may be due to the m in " dame," the 
word preceding it. 

The story is told as follows. 

In all the world there was no better harper than King 
Orfeo [Sir Orpheo], and no fairer lady than dame Meroudys. 
On a morning in the beginning of May, the queen went forth 
with her ladies to an orchard, and fell asleep under an 
" ympe " ^ tree till it was long past noon. When her ladies 
woke her, she cried aloud, tore her clothes, and disfigured her- 
self with her nails. They sought assistance and put her to 
bed in her chamber, whither the king came to visit her, and 
ask her what might help her. She told him how in her sleep 
she had been bidden by a knight to come and speak with his 
lord the king ; she refused, but the king came to her, with a 
hundred knights and a hundred ladies in white on white 
steeds, and his crown was all of precious stones. He bore 
her away to a fair palace, and showed her his possessions. 
Then he took her back, but bade her be beneath the tree 
on the morrow, when she should go with them and stay with 
them for ever. 

King Orfeo was greatly distressed, and none could advise 
him. On the morrow he took his queen and ten hundred 
1 A grafted fruit tree; here probably an apple. 



'A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM' 51 

knights to guard her beneath the ympe tree ; but in vain, she 
was away with the fairy, and they knew not whither. King 
Orfeo in grief called together his barons and knights and 
squires, and bade them obey his high steward as regent ; he 
himself went forth barefoot and in poor attire into the 
wilderness, with naught but his harp. 

So for ten winters he abode in the forest and on the heath, 
in a hollow tree, or under leaves and grass, till his frame 
shrank and his beard grew long ; and ever and anon, when 
the day was fair, he would play his harp, and the beasts of 
the forest and the birds on bush and briar would come about 
him to hearken. 

Then on a hot day he saw the king of fairy and his retinue 
riding with hounds and blowing horns ; and again he saw 
a great host of knights with drawn swords ; and again he 
saw sixty ladies, gentle and gay, riding on palfreys and bear- 
ing hawks on their wrists. Their falcons had good sport, 
and Orfeo drew nigh to watch ; and looking on the face of 
one of the ladies, he recognised Meroudys. They gazed at 
each other speechless, and tears ran from her eyes ; but the 
other ladies bore her away. The king followed them to 
a fair country where there was neither hill nor dale, and 
into a castle, gaining entrance as a minstrel. Then he saw 
many men and women sleeping on every side, seemingly dead ; 
among them he again beheld his wife. And he came before 
the king and queen of that realm, and harped so sweetly that 
the king promised him whatever he might ask. He asked 



52 SOURCES AND ANALOGUES OF 

for the fair dame Meroudys ; and he took her by the hand, 
and they fared homewards. 

In his own city he lodged awhile in poor quarters, and 
then went forth to play his harp ; and meeting his steward, 
who knew the harp but not his master, told him he had 
found the harp ten winters ago, by the side of a man eaten by 
lions. This evil news caused the steward to swoon, where- 
upon King Orfeo revealed himself, and sent for dame 
Meroudys. She came in a triumphant procession ; there 
was mirth and melody ; and they were new-crowned king 
and queen. Harpers of Bretayne heard this tale and made 
the lay and called it after the king 

"That Orfeo hight, as men well wote ; 
Good is the lay, svifeet is the note I " 

The ballad which represents the debris of this romance 
has only been recovered in a single text, from the memory of 
an old man in Unst, Shetland, and it is incomplete in verse- 
form, though the reciter remembered the gist of the story. 
This version of the ballad is further complicated by the fact 
that the old man sang it to a refrain which appears to be Unst 
pronunciation of Danish — a startling instance of phonetic 
tradition. 

It is not, however, to be understood from this that it was 
impossible for Shakespeare to have heard this ballad ; 
English versions may have been current in his time. But 
even so, the ballad would add nothing to the knowledge he 



«A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM' 53 

might gain elsewhere ; it is simply a short form of the 
romance altered by tradition. ^ 

There are half-a-dozen other English and Scottish ballads 
concerning fairies, none of much importance touching our 
present theme. They may be best studied in Child's 
collection, Nos. 35-41, where under Tarn Lin he has put 
together the main features of fairy-lore revealed in traditional 
ballads." One or two such points may be noted here. 

We have seen that Ogier saw the supernatural lady after 
plucking and eating an apple from a tree. Thomas of 
Erceldoune, Launfal, and Meroudys, are sleeping or lying 
beneath a tree when they see their various visitors. Tam Lin 
in the ballad was taken by the fairies while sleeping under 
an apple tree. Malory ^ tells us that Lancelot went to sleep 
about noon (traditionally the dangerous hour) beneath an 
apple tree, and was bewitched by Morgan le Fay. In 
modern Greek folk-lore, certain trees are said to be dangerous 
to lie under at noon, as the sleeper may be taken by the 
nereids, who correspond to our fairies. 

At certain intervals — every seven years, the ballads say — 
the fiend of hell takes a tithe from the fairies, usually pre- 

1 It may be seen in Child's Ballads, i. 215, with a full analysis of 
tfie romance, and in the present editor's Popular Ballads of the Olden 
Time, Second Series, p. 208. 

2 Ballads, i. 338-340 ; see also various " Additions and Correc- 
tions " in tlie later volumes, and s.v. Elf, Elves, etc. in the Index of 
Matters and Literature. 

■^ Morte Darthur (ed. Sommer), vi. 1. 3. 



54 SOURCES AND ANALOGUES OF 

ferring one who is fair and of good flesh and blood. Hence 
in Thomas of Erceldoune^ the elf queen is anxious that he 
should leave her realm, because she thinks the foul fiend 
would choose him (11. 219-224). 

The notion of the fairies' demand of a tithe of produce, 
agricultural or domestic, is parallel to this sacrifice.^ 

A third point on which fairy-lore usually insists is that 
the steeds of the fairies shall be white ; here Thomas of 
Erceldoune is at variance with the other poems, the elf- 
queen's palfrey being a dapple-grey. It is curious to learn 
that this superstition still survives. "At that time there was 
a gentleman who had been taken by the fairies, and made an 
officer among them, and it was often people would see him and 
her riding on a white horse at dawn and in the evening." ^ 

It will have been observed that the tale of Orfeo varies 
considerably from the classical tale of Orpheus ; but this is 
not surprising ; no one can imagine that it comes direct from 
the classics. A French original is presumed ; indeed, there 
are references in early " lais " to a "Lai d'Orphey," 
indicating the existence of a poem which was probably the 
original of our King Orfeo. This original is presumed to 
have been a Breton lay, one of the many that were popular 
in the eleventh and twelfth centuries, and the English version 

^ See below, p. 131. 

2 See J. M. Synge, The Aran Islands (1907), p. 48, and A. Nutt, 
Fairy Mythology of Shakespeare, p. 22. 
^ See Synge, op. cit., p. 47. 



«A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM' 55 

may have been taken from the supposed source through a 
French form. 

Now, these Breton lays were chiefly on Celtic subjects, 
and placed their scenes in the Celtic realms of Great Britain, 
Little Britain, Ireland, or Scotland. The bards of Armorica 
doubtless picked up a good story wherever they could find it ; 
and the classical story of Orpheus and Eurydice would appeal 
strongly to Celts, who have always been famous for harping. 
But why should these early Celtic singers have made such 
changes in the story, unless they had a similar story of their 
oivn which was confused with it ? The parallel story has 
been adduced by Professor Kittredge ^ from an Irish epic 
tale, The Wooing (or Courtship) of Etain. The portions of 
the story which concern us here follow. 

Eochaid Airemm, king of Ireland, found him a wife in 
Etain daughter of Etar in the Bay of Cichmany, and with 
her Mider of Bri Leith (a fairy chief) was in love. On a 
summer's day, as the king sat on the heights of Tara 
beholding the plain of Breg, a strange young warrior 
appeared, gave his name as Mider, and challenged Eochaid 
to a game of chess for a wager. Many were the games they 
played, and at first Eochaid won, and bade Mider carry out 

1 See his admirable article on Sir Orfeo in the American Journal of 
Philology, vii. 176-202. The Courtship of Etain may be seen in 
English, translated from the two versions in Egerton MS. 1782. 
and the " Leabharna h-Uidhri " — an eleventh century Irish MS. — 
in Heroic Romances of Ireland, by A. H. Leahy, i. 7-32. 



56 SOURCES AND ANALOGUES OF 

certain tasks. But at last Eochaid was defeated, and Mider 
for his reward asked to be allowed to hold Etain in his arms 
and kiss her. Eochaid put him off for a month ; at the end 
of which time he called together the armies of Ireland, and 
took Etain into the palace, and shut and locked the doors, 
and ringed the house with guards. Yet at the appointed 
hour Mider stood in their midst, fairer than ever ; and he 
sang to Etain : — 

" fair-hatred nvoman, nv'ill you come av'tth me Into a 
marvellous land ivhere'in is music, where heads are covered with 
primrose hair and bodies are ivhite as snow P There is no 
" mine" or '^ thine" there ; ivhite are teeth, and black are eye- 
hroius, and cheeks are the hue of the foxglove, and eyes the hue 
of blackbirds' eggs. . . . We see everything on every side, yet 
no man seeth us. Though pleasant the plains of Ireland, yet are 
they a ^wilderness for him ivho has known the great plain." 

But Etain would not go to him, before Eochaid was willing 
to resign her. And the king would not, yet allowed Mider 
lo embrace her before him. Mider took his weapons into 
his left hand, and Etain with his right, and bore her away 
through the skylight. The guards outside beheld two swans 
flying, and they flew towards the elf-mound of Femun, 
which is called the Mound of the Fair-haired Women. 

For nine years Eochaid waged war against Mider, digging 
into the elf-mounds, until he hit upon the fairy-mansion ; 
whereupon Mider sent to the side of the palace sixty women, 
all exactly like Etain. And first the king carried away the 



f"^ 



;r 



«A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM' 57 

wrong woman, but when he returned to sack Bri Leith, 
Etain made herself known to him, and he bore her back to 
the palace at Tara. 

It is reasonable to suppose, then, that some Armorican bard, 
hearing the classical tale of Orpheus and Eurydice, re- 
membered the Celtic legend of Eochaid and Etain, and 
grafted the one on the other. Hades became Bri Leith, or 
the vaguely-defined beautiful unknown country ; but the clas- 
sical names displaced the Celtic. The confusion, however, 
did not at once cease. In one of the MSS. of Sir Orfeo 
it is said that Orfeo's father 

"Was comen of king Pluto, 
And his moder of king Juno'' 

— confusion worse confounded. Moreover, as we have 
already seen, even Chaucer called the fairy-king Pluto and 
the queen Proserpina. 

Again, to hark back to the other romances, we have found 
the wordy^j attached to the name of King Arthur's sister 
Morgan. Nothing is more remarkably certain than the close 
and constant association in mediaeval lore of the fairies and 
the fairy-world with the Arthurian cycle of romance ; ^ King 
Arthur's sister was Morgan le Fay, whose son by Ogier was 
Merlin ; and the romance of Hiion of Bordeaux^ which relates 
these facts, though strictly belonging to the Charlemagne 

' A. Nutt, Fairy Mythology of Shakespeare, p. 12. 



58 SOURCES AND ANALOGUES OF 

cycle, contains the account of Oberon's bequest of his realm 
to King Arthur. Chaucer, whatever other doubts he may 
have had, was convinced on this point : — ^ 

"In th' olde daies of the King Arthoure, 
Of which that Bretons speken gret honoure, 
Al was this land fulfild of fayerye ; 
The elfqueen with hir joly companye 
Daunced ful ofte in many a grene mede ; 
This was the olde opinion as I rede." 

Now the Arthurian legends ultimately derive from Celtic 
tales, which must be supposed to have travelled from Wales 
into France byway of Brittany — Little Britain, or Armorica 
— in the eleventh and twelfth centuries ; for there are 
Welsh versions independent of the Breton forms, though 
closely akin. Students of early Celtic literature have not as 
yet agreed about the historical relations between Welsh and 
Irish stories — whether the Welsh imposed their mythology 
and heroic legends on the Irish, or vice versa ; but the general 
similarity between them is undeniable, and easily explicable 
by a common Celtic source. 

Everything, then, points to the Celtic legends as the chief 
origin of the mediaeval fairy-lore ; and the early Celtic 
literature, although its study, complicated by an unfamiliar 
language, hasonly recently been undertaken scientifically, has 

1 Wyf of Bathes Tale, 1-6. 



'A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM' 59 

already revealed an extremely rich and complete store of 
romance that extends over a thousand years. From manu- 
scripts which are attributed to the twelfth century (and even 
so contain matter rightly belonging to the ninth or tenth), we 
can trace the development of a creed concerning supernatural 
beings through the succeeding centuries, down to a time at 
which the written account is displaced by recorded oral 
tradition. A race of beings, who must originally have fallen 
from the Celtic Olympus, continue to appear, with character- 
istics that remain the same in essence, and under a designation 
that may be heard in Ireland today, through ten centuries of 
Irish tradition and literature.^ 

These people are called in Irish mythology the Tuatha De 
Dananti, described from at latest 1 100 a.d. as aes s'ldhe, "the 
folk of the [[fairy-J hillock ; " the name for fairies in Ireland 
now is " the Sidhe." ^ Originally, it may be, the aes sidhe 
were not identified with the Tuatha De Danann ; and before 
the twelfth century the Sidhe were not associated with the 
Celtic belief in " a beautiful country beyond the sea," a 
happy land called by various names — Tir-nan-Og (the land 
of youth), Tir Tairngire (the land of promise) — which has 
now become "fairy-land." In the earliest heroic legends the 
Tuatha De Danann assist or protect mortal champions, and 
fall in love with mortal men and maids ; but with the spread 

1 See A. Nutt, op. cit,, pp. 16-17 ; and various authorities given 
by G. L. Kittredge, op. cit,, p. 196 notes. 
■^ Pronounced shee. 



6o SOURCES AND ANALOGUES OF 

of Christianity (as might be expected) they lost many of their 
previous characteristics.^ 

To look back for a moment, we must note that so far we 
have touched no belief later than the fifteenth century, and 
already we have seen enough blending of various superstitions 
and legends to give our fairies a very mixed ancestry. Clas- 
sical mythology, Celtic heroic sagas and northern Eddas in 
the tenth, eleventh, and twelfth centuries, Saxo the Danish 
historian in the twelfth, and a series of romances, running 
through Celtic-Breton-French-English languages from the 
twelfth to fifteenth centuries — all combine to alter or add to 
the popular conception of fairies. Celtic Mider is of human 
stature, beautiful, powerful, dwelling beneath the earth ; he 
attempts to carry off a mortal bride. Teutonic Alberich is 
a dwarf, presumably not handsome, but well disposed to 
mortals. But when we come to Hiion of Bordeaux we find 
Oberon's characteristics are derived from varying sources. 
He himself describes - to Huon, in a fantastic romance-style, 
which attempts to associate him with as many classic heroes 
as possible, his parentage and birth : — 

1 Mr. Alfred Nutt {op. cit., pp. 19-23) is at pains to show the 
close association of the Tuatha Be Danann with ritual of an agri- 
cultural-sacrificial kind, in the aspect they have assumed — " fairies " 
— to the modern Irish peasant. The Sidhe have fallen from 
the high estate of the romantic and courtly w^ooers and warriors, 
as they must once have fallen from the Celtic pantheon. 

2 Chap. XXV. (E.E.T.S. edition, 72). Oberon recites his history 
again in chap. Ixxxiv. (p. 264), 



*A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM' 61 

" I shall show thee true, it is Julius Caesar engendered me 
on a lady of the Privy Isle . . . the which is now named 
Chifalonny [CephaloniaJ . . . after a seven year Caesar 
passed by the sea as he went into Thessaly whereas he fought 
with Pompey ; in his way he passed by Chifalonny, where 
my mother fetched him, and he fell in love with her because 
she showed him that he should discomfit Pompey, as he 
did." We are almost supplied with the date of Oberon's 
birth. 

He proceeds to narrate how all the fairies but one were 
invited to his birth, and that one, in anger, said that when 
he was three years old he should cease to grow ; however, 
she repented immediately and added that he should be " the 
fairest creature that nature ever formed." Another fairy 
endowed him with the power of seeing into the minds of all 
men ; and a third enabled him to go whither he would at a 
wish. " Moreover, if I will have a castle or a palace at my 
own device, incontinent it shall be made, and as soon gone 
again if I list ; and what meat or wine that I will wish for, 
I shall have it incontinent." 

Elsewhere ^ in the romance his handsome equipment and 
dress are described ; his gown, his bow, and above all his 
horn, " made by four ladies of the fairy," who endowed it 
with four gifts ; it cured all diseases by its blast, it banished 
hunger and thirst, it brought joy to the heavy-hearted, and it 
forced any one who heard to come at the wish of its owner. 
^ Chap. xxii. (E.E.T.S. edition, p. 65, sqq.). 



62 SOURCES AND ANALOGUES OF 

Horns, in English folk-lore, appear to belong rather to 
elves than to fairies^ — the elves that haunt hills, and are 
known all over Europe ; dwarfs, trolls, kobolds, pixies, 
and so forth. Teutonic witches are called horn-blowers. 
Again, the fairy-train or fairy-hunt is supposed to carry 
horns ; we have seen it already in Sir Orfco," and in 
Thomas of Erceldoune^ the fairy-queen bears a horn about 
her neck. 

But this Oberon of Huon of Bordeaux is mortal, and is not 
pictured as being abnormal in stature, any more than Mider. 
Shakespeare's Oberon and Mider are invisible (or can make 
themselves so), both have supernatural powers, and both are 
immortal. 

The question of the s'l-ze conventionally attributed to the 
fairies is of importance, because it shows that a confusion 
existed between the fays of romance with the elves of folk- 
superstition. Elves and their numerous counterparts in all 
European countries and elsewhere — we have just given a list 
of names which can easily be extended — are above all things 
small; they also are earth-dwellers, living in hills or under- 
ground chambers, and originally, perhaps, were supposed to be 

1 Cf. Child's Ballads, Nos. 2 {The Elfin Knight), 4 {Lady Isabel and 
the Elf-Knight), 41 [Hind Etin), and perhaps 35 {Allison Gross), with 
his note on the last, i. 314, referring to No. 36 {The Lai ly Worm and 
the Machrel of the Sea). 

- See above, p. 51. 

a See p. 124, 1. 39. 



*A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM' 63 

mischievous by nature. But even in Shakespeare's day, it 
would be impossible to say that fairies were benevolent and elves 
malevolent ; the two kinds and their respective characteristics 
were already confused. 

Robin Goodfellow, the Puck, or Hobgoblin, is however 
essentially mischievous. In a book contemporary with our 
play we find : — 

" Think me to be one of those Familiar es Lares that 
were rather pleasantly disposed than endued with any 
hurtful influence, as Hob Thrust, Robin Goodfellow, 
and suchlike spirits, as they term them, of the buttery, 
famoused in every old wives' chronicle for their mad merry 
pranks." ^ 

But four years later, as we have seen,^ Nashe confounds 
elves with fairies in deriving all alike from fauns and dryads. 
Robin is " mad-merry," "jocund and facetious," " a cozening 
idle friar or some such rogue " [in origin], and so forth — 
simply described by Shakespeare as a " shrewd and knavish 
sprite." The forms of mischief in which he delights are 
described in A Mtdsummer-N'ighi's Dream, II. i. 33—57, and 
all these " gests " may be found in the contemporary Robin 
Goodfellow literature ;3 though we have observed that some 

1 Tarltoris Neivs out of Purgatory , published by Robin Goodfelloiv (iSS*^)! 
Shakespeare Society reprint, p. 55. 

2 See above, p. 41. 

^ See the extracts from Scot's Discovery of Witchcraft and the Robin 
Goodfelloiv tract, pp. 133-140 and 81-121. 



64 SOURCES AND ANALOGUES OF 

of the functions attributed to Queen Mab in Meicutio's 
famous speech ^ belong rightly to Robin. ^ 

Thus we see — to take into consideration but a few points of 
the myth — that the fairy-superstition and the elf-superstition 
were melted together in the popular pre-Shakespearean mind, 
and that Shakespeare himself, making a new division of the 
characteristics of the two, yet re-welded the whole into one 
realm by putting the Puck in subjection under the fairy king. 

The main characteristics of Shakespeare's fairies, then, 
may be summarised shortly : — ^ 

They are a community under a king and queen, who hold a 
court ; they are very small, light, swift, elemental ; they share 
in the life of nature ; they are fond of dancing and singing ; 
they are invisible and immortal ; they prefer night, and 
midnight is their favourite hour ; they fall in love with mortals, 
steal babies and leave changelings, and usurp the function 
of Hymen in blessing the marriage-bed. Oberon, " king of 
shadows," can apparently see things hidden from Puck.^ 

1 Romeo and Juliet, I. iv. 33-94. See above, p. 37. 

^ Had I been able to find a book, Veridka rdat'io de daemomo Puck, 
referred to in the article D'lahle in the Dictionnaire des Sciences Occultes 
(in Migne, tome 48, vol. i., p. 475), it might be that it v/ould 
prove of great interest. In any case this allusion (pointed out to 
me by Mr. R. B. McKerrow) is an early instance of Puck used as 
a proper name. 

^ Abbreviated from E. K. Chambers' full analysis with references, 
Warivick Shakespeare edition of M.N.D., pp. 142-4. 

* See II. i. 155. 



*A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM' 65 

Titania, ** a spirit of no common rate," is yet subject to 
passion and jealousy, and had a mortal friend, " a votaress of 
my order." ^ 

The fairy of folk-lore in Shakespeare's day is nearly every- 
thing that the fairies of A Mul summer-Night' s Dream are ; we 
may possibly except their exiguity, their relations in love with 
mortals, and their hymeneal functions. His conception of 
their size as infinitesimal at least differs from that of the 
popular stories, where (as far as can be ascertained) they are 
shown to be about the size of mortal children. 

We may conclude these remarks with the modern Irish- 
Catholic theory of the origin of the fairies : — 

"When Lucifer saw himself in the glass, he thought 
himself equal with God. Then the Lord threw him 

^ How far Shakespeare associated his fairy queen Titania with 
her nominal parent Diana, is a question that would make matter 
for an elaborate study in mythology and mysticism, and might yet 
lead to no result. Diana is Luna in the heavens; Lucina (the goddess 
of child-birth) and the Huntress on earth; and Hecate in the under- 
world, goddess of enchantments and nocturnal incantations, often 
also identified with Proserpina. Titania is a votaress of the 
moon ; we have seen that fairies are intimately concerned with 
mortal babies, and that there is a fairy-hunt (see the quotation from 
James I's Demonologij, p. 37 above) ; and we have also noted the 
confusion of Proserpina with the fairy-queen. — The Tuatha De 
Danann are said to be " the folk of Danu " — who is Danu ? Hecate 
was called Trivia, on account of the above tripartition of Diana ; 
her statues were set up where three roads met, and the fairy-queen 
in Thomas the Rhymer points out to him the three roads that lead to 
heaven, hell, and elf-land. Speculation is easily led astray. 

F 



66 SOURCES AND ANALOGUES OF 

out of Heaven, and all the angels that belonged to him. 
While He was ' chucking them out,' an archangel 
asked Him to spare some of them, and those that were 
falling are in the air still, and have power to wreck ships, 
and to work evil in the world." ^ 



Oberon's Vision. 

A Midsummer-Night' s Dream, like too many other plays 
of Shakespeare, has been unable to escape the inquisition of 
" deuteroscopists " — those who are always on the look-out 
for historical and other allusions. The dainty passage (II. i. 
148-174), in which Oberon gives Puck directions how and 
where to find the magic herb that works the transformations 
of love in the rest of the play, appears to contain a reference 
to Elizabeth as " a fair vestal throned by the west " and 
" the imperial votaress." So much may be reasonably 
granted ; but Warburton in his edition proceeded to identify 
"the mermaid on a dolphin's back" with Mary Queen of 
Scots, the dolphin of course being the Dauphin, and so forth. 
This interpretation of the alleged secret allegory was displaced 
in 1843 by one rather more plausible — though still needlessly 
fantastic. 

Oberon s Visiotiy by the Rev. N. J. Halpin (Shakespeare 
Society, 1843) attempts to prove that in composing this 

^ J. M. Synge, A>a?i Islands, p. lo. 



«A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM' 67 

passage Shakespeare was referring to the Earl of Leicester's 
attempt to win Elizabeth's hand, when she visited him at 
Kenilworth in 1575; the mermaid, uttering dulcet and 
harmonious breath, so that the rude sea grows civil, and the 
stars that shot from their spheres, are explained, by parallel 
passages from contemporary accounts, as parts of the pageant 
or " Princely Pleasures " which formed the Queen's enter- 
tainment. The Earl was simultaneously intriguing with 
Lettice, Countess of Essex, who ultimately became his wife ; 
and it is she who, according to the Rev. Halpin, is intended 
by the " little western flower " ; to him the passage means : — 

" Cupid, on behalf of the Earl of Leicester, loosed an 
arrow at Queen Elizabeth ; but the Virgin Queen's 
maidenhood was so unassailable that the bolt missed 
her, hitting the Countess of Essex, who succumbed." 

In other words, Shakespeare mentions the Queen only in 
order to point out her rival's success ! 

It is as unnecessary to discuss the degrees of probability in 
Halpin's identifications as it was for him to elaborate them. 
Certainly it is likely that Shakespeare intended a compliment 
to his queen ; it is possible that the " mermaid on a dolphin's 
back " was a reminiscence of a pageant which he might have 
visited Kenilworth at the age of eleven to see ; and it may 
be true that he meant to hint at Leicester. 

On the other hand, I think that another explanation is 
more obvious and more rational. Shakespeare had to 



68 SOURCES AND ANALOGUES 

introduce into his play the magic herb which was to alter 
the loves of those into whose eyes it was squeezed. We 
may reasonably guess that he had read somewhere one of the 
many popular legends that explain why the violet is purple, 
why the rose is red, etc. ; there are some in Ovid's Meta- 
morphoses^ which Shakespeare read in Golding's translation. 
He saw an opportunity of paying a graceful compliment to 
Elizabeth by saying that the magic flower, once white, had 
been empurpled by a shaft of Cupid's drawn at the fair vestal 
and imperial votaress, who yet passed on untouched ; 

"And maidens call it love-in-idleness" 
— a popular name for the common pansy. 

1 The metamorphosis of Hyacinthus, for instance, Bk. X, 162, 
sqq. ; although there are others in the same book. See also the 
alteration in the mulberry caused by Pyramus' blood (pp. 77-80). 



ILLUSTRATIVE TEXTS 



TEXTS 



PAGE 



The Legend of Pyramus and Thisbe . . 73 

Robin Good- fellow . . . . 81 

Thomas of Erceldoune . . .122 

Scot's Discovery of Witchcraft . . 133 

'Strange Farlies' . . . .141 

The Mad Merry Pranks of Robin . . 144 

Queen Mab . . . . .149 

The Fairies' Farewell . . . 151 

The Fairy Queen . . . .155 

Nymphidia . . . . . 158 



THE LEGEND OF PYRAMUS AND THISBE 

From Arthur Golding's translation of Ovid's Meta- 
morphoses (1575), Book IV, fF. 52-3. 

Within the town (of whose huge walls so monstrous high 

and thick, 
The fame is given Semiramis for making them of brick) 

Dwelt hard together two young folk, in houses joined so 
near, 

That under all one roof well nigh both twain conveyed were. 

The name of him was Pyramus, and Thisbe call'd was she. 

So fair a man in all the East was none alive as he. 

Nor ne'er a woman, maid, nor wife in beauty like to her. 

This neighbourhood bred acquaintance first, this neighbour- 
hood first did stir 

The secret sparks : this neighbourhood first an entrance in 
did show 

For love, to come to that to which it afterward did grow. 

And if that right had taken place they had been man and 
wife. 

But still their parents went about to let which (for their life) 

73 



74 THE LEGEND OF 

They could not let. For both their hearts with equal flame 

did burn. 
No man was privy to their thoughts. And for to serve 

their turn, 
Instead of talk, they used signs : the closelier they suppressed 
The fire of love, the fiercer still it raged in their breast. 
The wall that parted house from house had riven therein a 

cranny, 
Which shrunk at making of the wall : this fault not marked 

of any 
Of many hundred years before (what doth not love espy ?) 
These lovers first of all found out, and made a way 

whereby 
To talk together secretly, and through the same did go 
Their loving whisp'rings very light and safely to and fro. 
Now as at one side Pyramus, and Thisbe on the tother 
Stood often drawing one of them the pleasant breath from 

other : 
O spiteful wall (said they) why dost thou part us lovers 

thus ? 
What matter were it if that thou permitted both of us 
In arms each other to embrace ? or if thou think that this 
Were over-much, yet mightest thou at least make room to 

kiss. 
And yet thou shalt not find us churls : we think ourselves in 

debt 
For the same piece of courtesy, in vouching safe to let 



PYRAMUS AND THISBE 75 

Our sayings to our friendly ears thus freely come and go. 
Thus having where they stood in vain complained of their 

woe, 
When night drew near they bade adieu, and each gave kisses 

sweet 
Unto the parget on their side the which did never meet. 
Next morning with her cheerful light had driven the stars 

aside. 
And Phoebus with his burning beams the dewy grass had 

dried. 
These lovers at their wonted place by fore-appointment met. 
Where after much complaint and moan they covenanted to 

get 
Away from such as watched them, and in the evening late 
To steal out of their fathers' house and eke the city gate. 
And to th' intent that in the fields they strayed not up and 

down. 
They did agree at Ninus' tomb to meet without the town. 
And tarry underneath a tree that by the same did grow ; 
Which was a fair high mulberry with fruit as white as snow. 
Hard by a cool and trickling spring. This bargain pleased 

them both. 
And so daylight (which to their thought away but slowly 

go'th) 
Did in the Ocean fall to rest, and night from thence doth rise. 
As soon as darkness once was come, straight Thisbe did 

devise 



76 THE LEGEND OF 

A shift to wind her out of doors, that none that were within 
Perceived her ; and muffling her with clothes about her chin, 
That no man might discern her face, to Ninus' tomb she 

came 
Unto the tree, and set her down there underneath the same. 
Love made her bold. But see the chance, there comes 

besmeared with blood 
About the chaps, a lioness all foaming from the wood. 
From slaughter lately made of kine to staunch her bloody 

thirst 
With water of the foresaid spring. Whom Thisbe, spying 

first 
Afar by moonlight, thereupon with fearful steps gan fly 
And in a dark and irksome cave did hide herself thereby. 
And as she fled away for haste she let her mantle fall. 
The which for fear she left behind not looking back at all. 
Now when the cruel lioness her thirst had staunched well, 
In going to the wood she found the slender weed that fell 
From Thisbe, which with bloody teeth in pieces she did tear. 
The night was somewhat further spent ere Pyramus came 

there. 
Who seeing in this subtle sand the print of lion's paw. 
Waxed pale for fear. But when that he the bloody mantle 

saw 
All rent and torn ; one night (he said) shall lovers two 

confound. 
Of which long life deserved she of all that live on ground. 



PYRAMUS AND THISBE 77 

My soul deserves of this mischance the peril for to bear. 

I, wretch, have been the death of thee, which to this place of 

fear 
Did cause thee in the night to come, and came not here 

before. 
My wicked limbs and wretched guts with cruel teeth there- 
fore 
Devour ye, O ye lions all that in this rock do dwell. 
But cowards use to wish for death. The slender weed that 

fell 
From Thisbe up he takes, and straight doth bear it to the 

tree, 
Which was appointed erst the place of meeting for to be. 
And when he had bewept and kissed the garment which he 

knew. 
Receive thou my blood too (quoth he), and therewithal he 

drew 
His sword, the which among his guts he thrust, and by and"^ 

by 
Did draw it from the bleeding wound, beginning for to die, 
And cast himself upon his back. The blood did spin on 

high 
As when a conduit pipe is cracked, the water bursting out 
Doth shoot itself a great way off, and pierce the air about. 
The leaves that were upon the tree besprinkled with his 

blood 
Were dyed black. The root also, bestained as it stood 



78 THE LEGEND OF 

A deep dark purple colour, straight upon the berries cast, "j 
Anon scarce ridded of her fear with which she was aghast, v 
For doubt of disappointing him comes Thisbe forth in haste,/ 
And for her lover looks about, rejoicing for to tell 
How hardly she had 'scaped that night the danger that 

befell. 
And as she knew right well the place and fashion of the tree 
(As which she saw so late before) even so when she did 

see 
The colour of the berries turned, she was uncertain whether 
It were the tree at which they both agreed to meet 

together. 
While in this doubtful stound she stood, she cast her eye 

aside, 
And there beweltered in his blood her lover she espied 
Lie sprawling with his dying limbs ; at which she started 

back. 
And looked pale as any box ; a shuddering through her 

strack. 
Even like the sea which suddenly with whissing noise doth 

move, 
When with a little blast of wind it is but touched above. 
But when approaching nearer him she knew it was her love. 
She beat her breast, she shrieked out, she tare her golden 

hairs. 
And taking him between her arms did wash his wounds with 

tears ; 



PYRAMUS AND THISBE 79 

Shemeint her weeping with his blood, and kissing all his face 
(Which now became as cold as ice) she cried in woeful 

case : 
Alas ! what chance, my Pyramus hath parted thee and me ? 
Make answer, O my Pyramus : it is thy Thisbe, even she 
Whom thou dost love most heartily that speaketh unto 

thee: 
Give ear and raise thy heavy head. He, hearing Thisbe's 

name, 
Lift up his dying eyes, and, having seen her, closed the 

same. 
But when she knew her mantle there, and saw his scabbard 

lie 
Without the sword : Unhappy man, thy love had made thee 

die ; 
Thy love (she said) hath made thee slay thyself. This 

hand of mine 
Is strong enough to do the like. My love no less than thine 
Shall give me force to work my wound, I will pursue thee 

dead, 
And, wretched woman as I am, it shall of me be said. 
That like as of thy death I was the only cause and blame, 
So am I thy companion eke and partner in the same. 
For death which only could, alas ! asunder part us twain, 
Shall never so dissever us but we will meet again. 
And you the parents of us both, most wretched folk alive, 
Let this request that I shall make in both our names belyve 



8o PYRAMUS AND THISBE 

Entreat you to permit that we, whom chaste and steadfast 

love, 
And whom even death hath joined in one, may, as it doth 

behove. 
In one grave be together laid. And thou unhappy tree, 
Which shroudest now the corse of one, and shalt anon through 

me 
Shroud two, of this same slaughter hold the sicker signs for 

ay 
Black be the colour of thy fruit and mourning-like alway. 
Such as the murder of us twain may evermore bewray. 
This said, she took the sword, yet warm with slaughter of 

her love, 
And setting it beneath her breast did to the heart it shove. 
Her prayer with the gods and with their parents took effect, 
For when the fruit is throughly ripe, the berry is bespect 
With colour tending to a black. And that which after fire 
Remained, rested in one tomb as Thisbe did desire. 



ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW; HIS MAD 
PRANKS AND MERRY JESTS 

Not omitting that ancient form of beginning tales, Once upon 
a time it was my chance to travel into that noble county of 
Kent. The weather being wet, and my two-legged horse 
being almost tired (for indeed my own legs were all the 
supporters that my body had), I went dropping into an 
alehouse ; there found I, first a kind welcome, next good 
liquor, then kind strangers (which made good company), 
then an honest host, whose love to good liquor was written 
in red characters both in his nose, cheeks and forehead : an 
hostess I found there too, a woman of very good carriage ; 
and though she had not so much colour (for what she had 
done) as her rich husband had, yet all beholders might 
perceive by the roundness of her belly, that she was able to 
draw a pot dry at a draught, and ne'er unlace for the matter. 

Well, to the fire I went, where I dried my outside and 
wet my inside. The ale being good, and I in good 
company, I lapt in so much of this nappy liquor, that it 
begot in me a boldness to talk, and desire of them to know 
what was the reason that the people of that country were 
called Long-tails. The host said, all the reason that ever he 



82 ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW 

could hear was, because the people of that country formerly 
did use to go in side-skirted coats. " There is," said an 
old man that sat by, "another reason that I have heard: 
that is this. In the time of the Saxons' conquest of 
England there were divers of our countrymen slain by 
treachery, which made those that survived more careful in 
dealing with their enemies, as you shall hear. 

" After many overthrows that our countrymen had re- 
ceived by the Saxons, they dispersed themselves into divers 
companies into the woods, and so did much damage by their 
sudden assaults to the Saxons, that Hengist, their king, 
hearing the damage that they did (and not knowing how to 
subdue them by force), used this policy. He sent to a 
company of them, and gave them his word for their liberty 
and safe return, if they would come unarmed and speak with 
him. This they seemed to grant unto, but for their more 
security (knowing how little he esteemed oaths or promises) 
they went every one of them armed with a short sword, 
hanging just behind under their garments, so that the Saxons 
thought not of any weapons they had : but it proved other- 
wise ; for when Hengist his men (that were placed to cut 
them off) fell all upon them, they found such unlooked a 
resistance, that most of the Saxons were slain, and they that 
escaped, wondering how they could do that hurt, having no 
weapons (as they saw), reported that they struck down men 
like lions with their tails ; and so they ever after were called 
Kentish Long-tails." 



ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW 83 

I told him this was strange, if true, and that their country's 
honour bound them more to believe in this than it did me. 

" Truly, sir," said my hostess, " I think we are called 
Long-tails, by reason our tales are long, that we used to pass 
the time withal, and make ourselves merry." '* Now, good 
hostess," said I, " let me entreat from you one of those 
tales." " You shall," said she, " and that shall not be a 
common one neither, for it is a long tale, a merry tale, and a 
sweet tale : and thus it begins." 

THE hostess's TALE OF THE BIRTH OF ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW 

Once upon a time, a great while ago, when men did eat 
more and drink less — then men were more honest that 
knew no knavery, than some now are that confess the know- 
ledge and deny the practice — about that time (whensoe'er 
it was) there was wont to walk many harmless spirits called 
fairies, dancing in brave order in fairy rings on green hills 
with sweet music (sometime invisible) in divers shapes : 
many mad pranks would they play, as pinching of sluts black 
and blue, and misplacing things in ill-ordered houses ; but 
lovingly would they use wenches that cleanly were, giving 
them silver and other pretty toys, which they would leave for 
them, sometimes in their shoes, other times in their pockets, 
sometimes in bright basins and other clean vessels. 

Amongst these fairies was there a he-fairy ; whether he 
was their king or no I know not, but surely he had great 



84 ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW 

government and command in that country, as you shall hear. 
This same he-fairy did love a proper young wench, for 
every night would he with other fairies come to the house, 
and there dance in her chamber ; and oftentimes she was 
forced to dance with him, and at his departure would he 
leave her silver and jewels, to express his love unto her. At 
last this maid was with child, and being asked who was the 
father of it, she answered a man that nightly came to 
visit her, but early in the morning he would go his way, 
whither she knew not, he went so suddenly. 

Many old women, that then had more wit than those that 
are now living and have less, said that a fairy had gotten her 
with child ; and they bid her be of good comfort, for the 
child must needs be fortunate that had so noble a father as a 
fairy was, and should work many strange wonders. To be 
short, her time grew on, and she was delivered of a man 
child, who (it should seem) so rejoiced his father's heart, 
that every night his mother was supplied with necessary 
things that are befitting a woman in child-birth, so that in no 
mean manner neither ; for there had she rich embroidered 
cushions, stools, carpets, coverlets, delicate linen : then for 
meat she had capons, chickens, mutton, lamb, pheasant, snite, 
woodcock, partridge, quail. The gossips liked this fare so 
well that she never wanted company ; wine had she of all 
sorts, muskadine, sack, malmsey, claret, white and bastard ; 
this pleased her neighbours well, so that few that came to see 
her, but they had home with them a medicine for the fleas. 



ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW 85 

Sweetmeats too had they in such abundance that some of 
their teeth are rotten to this day ; and for music she wanted 
not, or any other thing she desired. 

All praised this honest fairy for his care, and the child for 
his beauty, and the mother for a happy woman. In brief, 
christened he was, at the which all this good cheer was 
doubled, which made most of the women so wise, that they 
forgot to make themselves unready, and so lay in their 
clothes ; and none of them next day could remember the 
child's name but the clerk, and he may thank his book for 
it, or else it had been utterly lost. So much for the birth of 
little Robin. 

OF ROBIN GOOD-FELLOw's BEHAVIOUR WHEN HE WAS YOUNG 

When Robin was grown to six years of age, he was so 
knavish that all the neighbours did complain of him ; for no 
sooner was his mother's back turned, but he was in one 
knavish action or other, so that his mother was constrained 
(to avoid the complaints) to take him with her to market, 
or wheresoever she went or rode. But this helped little or 
nothing, for if he rode before her, then would he make mouths 
and ill-favoured faces at those he met ; if he rode behind her, 
then would he clap his hand on his tail ; so that his mother 
was weary of the many complaints that came against him, 
yet knew she not how to beat him justly for it, because she 
never saw him do that which was worthy blows. The 
complaints were daily so renewed that his mother promised 



86 ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW 

him a whipping. Robin did not like that cheer, and there- 
fore, to avoid it, he ran away, and left his mother a heavy 
woman for him. 



HOW ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW DWELT WITH A TAILOR 

After that Robin Good-fellow had gone a great way from 
his mother's house, he began to be hungry, and going to a 
tailor's house, he asked something for God's sake. The 
tailor gave him meat, and understanding that he was master- 
less, he took him for his man, and Robin so plied his work 
that he got his master's love. 

On a time his master had a gown to make for a woman, 
and it was to be done that night : they both sat up late so 
that they had done all but setting on the sleeves by twelve 
o'clock. This master then being sleepy said, " Robin, whip 
thou on the sleeves, and then come thou to bed ; I will go 
to bed before." " I will," said Robin. So soon as his 
master was gone, Robin hung up the gown, and taking both 
sleeves in hisj hands, he whipped and lashed them on the 
gown. So stood he till the morning that his master came 
down : his master seeing him stand in that fashion asked him 
what he did? "Why," quoth he, "as you bid me, whip 
on the sleeves." "Thou rogue," said his master, "I 
did mean that thou shouldst have set them on quickly and 
slightly." "I would you had said so," said Robin, "for 
then had I not lost all this sleep." To be short, his master 



ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW 87 

was fain to do the work, but ere he had made an end of it, 
the woman came for it, and with a loud voice chafed for her 
gown. The tailor, thinking to please her, bid Robin fetch 
the remnants that they left yesterday (meaning thereby meat 
that was left) ; but Robin, to cross his master the more, 
brought down the remnants of the cloth that was left of the 
gown. At the sight of this, his master looked pale, but the 
woman was glad, saying, " I like this breakfast so well, that 
I will give you a pint of wine to it." She sent Robin for 
the wine, but he never returned again to his master. 



WHAT HAPPENED TO ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW AFTER HE 
WENT FROM THE TAILOR 

After Robin had travelled a good day's journey from his 
master's house he sat down, and being weary he fell asleep. 
No sooner had slumber taken full possession of him, and 
closed his long-opened eyelids, but he thought he saw many 
goodly proper personages in antic measures tripping about 
him, and withal he heard such music as he thought that 
Orpheus, that famous Greek fiddler (had he been alive), 
compared to one of these, had been as infamous as a Welsh 
harper that plays for cheese and onions. As delights 
commonly last not long, so did those end sooner than he 
would willingly they should have done ; and for very grief 
he awaked, and found by him lying a scroll, wherein was 
written these lines following in golden letters. 



88 ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW 

Robin, my only son and heir, 

How to live take thou no care : 

By nature thou hast cunning shifts, 

Which I'll increase with other gifts. 

Wish what thou wilt, thou shall it have ; 

And for to vex both fool and knave, 

Thou hast the power to change thy shape, 

To horse, to hog, to dog, to ape. 

Transformed thus, by any means 

See none thou harm'st but knaves and queans ; 

But love thou those that honest be, 

And help them in necessity. 

Do thus, and all the world shall know 

The pranks of Robin Good-fellow ; 

For by that name thou called shalt be 

To age's last posterity. 

If thou observe my just command. 

One day thou shalt see Fairy Land. 

This more I give : who tells thy pranks 

From those that hear them shall have thanks. 



Robin having read this was very joyful, yet longed he to 
know whether he had this power or not, and to try it he 
wished for some meat : presently it was before him. Then 
wished he for beer and wine : he straightway had it. This 
liked him well, and because he was weary, he wished himself 
a horse : no sooner was his wish ended, but he was 
transformed, and seemed a horse of twenty pound price, and 
leaped and curveted as nimble as if he had been in stable at 
rack and manger a good month. Then wished he himself a 
dog, and was so : then a tree, and was so : so from one 



ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW 89 

thing to another, till he was certain and well assured that he 
could change himself to any thing whatsoever. 



HOW ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW SERVED A CLOWNISH FELLOW 

Robin Good-fellow going over a field met with a clownish 
fellow, to whom he spake in this manner. " Friend," quoth 
he, " what is a clock ? " "A thing," answered the clown, 
"that shows the time of the day." "Why then," said 
Robin Good-fellow, " be thou a clock, and tell me what 
time of the day it is." " I owe thee not so much service," 
answered he again, " but because thou shalt think thyself 
beholden to me, know that it is the same time of the day as 
it was yesterday at this time." 

These cross-answers vexed Robin Good-fellow, so that 
in himself he vowed to be revenged of him, which he did in 
this manner. 

Robin Good-fellow turned himself into a bird, and 
followed this fellow, who was going into a field a little from 
that place to catch a horse that was at grass. The horse 
being wild ran over dyke and hedge, and the fellow after ; 
but to little purpose, for the horse was too swift for him. 
Robin was glad of this occasion, for now or never was the 
time to put his revenge in action. 

Presently Robin shaped himself like to the horse that the 
fellow followed, and so stood before the fellow : presently 
the fellow took hold of him and got on his back, but long 



90 ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW 

had he not rid, but with a stumble he hurled this churlish 
clown to the ground, that he almost broke his neck ; yet 
took he not this for a sufficient revenge for the cross-answers 
he had received, but stood still and let the fellow mount him 
once more. 

In the way the fellow was to ride was a great plash of 
water of a good depth : through this must he of necessity 
ride. No sooner was he in the midst of it, but Robin 
Good-fellow left him with nothing but a pack-saddle betwixt 
his legs, and in the shape of a fish swam to the shore, and 
ran away laughing, ho, hoy hoh ! leaving the poor fellow almost 
drowned. 



HOW ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW HELPED TWO LOVERS AND 
DECEIVED AN OLD MAN 

Robin going by a wood heard two lovers make great 
lamentation, because they were hindered from enjoying each 
other by a cruel old lecher, who would not suffer this loving 
couple to marry. Robin, pitying them, went to them and 
said : "I have heard your complaints, and do pity you ; be 
ruled by me, and I will see that you shall have both your 
hearts' content, and that suddenly if you please." After 
some amazement the maiden said, " Alas ! sir, how can that 
be ? My uncle, because I will not grant to his lust, is so 
straight over me, and so oppresseth me with work night and 
day, that I have not so much time as to drink or speak with 



ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW 91 

this young man, whom I love above all men living." " If 
your work, be all that hindereth you," said Robin, " I will 
see that done : ask me not how, nor make any doubt of the 
performance ; I will do it. Go you with your love : for 
twenty-four hours I will free you. In that time marry or do 
what you will. If you refuse my proffered kindness never 
look to enjoy your wished-for happiness. I love true lovers, 
honest men, good fellows, good housewives, good meat, good 
drink, and all things that good is, but nothing that is ill ; 
for my name is Robin Good-fellow, and that you shall see 
that 1 have power to perform what I have undertaken, see 
what I can do." Presently he turned himself into a horse, 
and av/ay he ran : at the sight of which they were both 
amazed, but better considering with themselves, they both 
determined to make good use of their time, and presently 
they went to an old friar, who presently married them. 
They paid him, and went their way. Where they supped 
and lay, I know not, but surely they liked their lodging 
well the next day. 

Robin, when that he came near the old man's house, 
turned himself into the shape of the young maid, and 
entered the house, where, after much chiding, he fell to the 
work that the maid had to do, which he did in half the time 
that another could do it in. The old man, seeing the speed 
he made, thought that she had some meeting that night (for 
he took Robin Good-fellow for his niece) ; therefore he 
gave him order for other work, that was too much for any 



92 ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW 

one to do in one night ; Robin did that in a trice, and played 
many mad pranks beside ere the day appeared. 

In the morning he went to the two lovers to their bed- 
side, and bid God give them joy, and told them all things 
went well, and that ere night he would bring them ten 
pounds of her uncle's to begin the world with. They both 
thanked him, which was all the requital that he looked for, 
and being therewith well contented he went his way 
laughing. 

Home went he to the old man, who then was by, and 
marvelled how the work was done so soon. Robin, seeing 
that, said : ** Sir, I pray marvel not, for a greater wonder 
than that this night hath happened to me." " Good niece, 
what is that?" said the old man. "This, Sir; but I 
shame to speak it, yet I will : weary with work, I slept, and 
did dream that I consented to that which you have so often 
desired of me (you know what it is I mean), and methought 
you gave me as a reward ten pounds, with your consent to 
marry that young man that I have loved so long." "Didst 
thou dream so ? thy dream I will make good, for under my 
handwriting I give my free consent to marry him, or whom 
thou dost please to marry (and withal writ) ; and for the ten 
pounds, go but into the out-barn, and I will bring it thee 
presently. How sayest thou," said the old lecher ; " wilt 
thou ? " Robin with silence did seem to grant, and went 
toward the barn. The old man made haste, told out his 
money, and followed. 



ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW 93 

Being come thither, he hurled the money on the ground, 
saying, " This is the most pleasing bargain that ever I 
made ; " and going to embrace Robin, Robin took him up 
in his arms and carried him forth ; first drew him through a 
pond to cool his hot blood, then did he carry him where the 
young married couple were, and said, *' Here is your uncle's 
consent under his hand ; then, here is the ten pounds he 
gave you, and there is your uncle : let him deny it if he 
can." 

The old man, for fear of worse usage, said all was true. 
'* Then am I as good as my word," said Robin, and so 
went away laughing. The old man knew himself duly 
punished, and turned his hatred into love, and thought 
afterward as well of them as if she had been his own. The 
second part shall show many incredible things done by Robin 
Good-fellow (or otherwise called Hob-goblin) and his 
companions, by turning himself into divers sundry shapes. 



THE SECOND PART OF ROBIN GOOD- 
FELLOW, COMMONLY CALLED HOB- 
GOBLIN 

HOW ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW HELPED A MAID TO WORK 

Robin Good-fellow oftentimes would in the night visit 
farmers' houses, and help the maids to break hemp, to bolt, 
to dress flax, and to spin and do other work, for he was 



94 ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW 

excellent in everything. One night he came to a farmer's 
house, where there was a good handsome maid : this maid 
having much work to do, Robin one night did help her, and 
in six hours did bolt more than she could have done in 
twelve hours. The maid wondered the next day how her 
work came, and to know the doer, she watched the next 
night that did follow. About twelve of the clock in came 
Robin, and fell to breaking of hemp, and for to delight 
himself he sung this mad song. 

And can the physician make sick men well? 
And can the magician a fortune divine ? 
Without lily, germander and sops-in-wine ? 

'W'ith sweet-brier 

And bon-fire, 

And strawberry wire, 

And columbine. 

Within and out, in and out, round as a ball. 
With hither and thither, as straight as a line, 
With lily, germander and sops-in-wine. 

With sweet-brier. 

And bon-fire, 

And strawberry wire. 

And columbine. 

When Saturn did live, there lived no poor, 
The king and the beggar with roots did dine. 
With lily, germander and sops-in-wine. 

With sweet-brier. 

And bon-fire. 

And strawberry wire, 

And columbine. 



ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW 95 

The maid, seeing him bare in clothes, pitied him, and 

against the next night provided him a waistcoat. Robin, i 

coming the next night to work, as he did before, espied the | 

waistcoat, whereat he started and said — | 

I 

Because thou lay'st me, himpen, hampen, I 

I will neither bolt nor stampen ; i 

'Tis not your garments new or old 1 

That Robin loves: I feel no cold, ,■ 
Had you left me milk or cream, 

You should have had a pleasing dream: ' 

Because you left no drop or crumb, J 

Robin never more will come. I 

So went he away laughing, ho, ho, hoh .' The maid was 
much grieved and discontented at his anger : for ever after i 

she was fain to do her work herself without the help of Robin 
Good-fellow. 

HOW ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW LED A COMPANY OF FELLOWS OUT ^ 

OF THEIR WAY 

A company of young men having been making merry with 
their sweethearts, were at their coming home to come over a 
heath. Robin Good-fellow, knowing of it, met them, and 
to make some pastime, he led them up and down the heath 
a whole night, so that they could not get out of it ; for he 
went before them in the shape of a walking fire, which they 
all saw and followed till the day did appear : then Robin left 
them, and at his departure spake these words — 



96 ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW 

Get you home, you merry lads 1 
Tell your mammiei and your dads, 
And all those that news desire. 
How you saw a walking fire. 
Wenches, that do smile and lisp 
Use to call me Willy Wisp. 
If that you but weary be, 
It is sport alone for me. 
Away: unto your houses go 
And I'll go laughing ho, ho, hoh ! 

The fellows were glad that he was gone, for they were all 
in a great fear that he would have done them some mischief. 



HOW ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW SERVED A LECHEROUS GALLANT 

Robin always did help those that suffered wrong, and never 
would hurt any but those that did wrong to others. It was 
his chance one day to go through a field where he heard one 
call for help : he, going near where he heard the cry, saw a 
lusty gallant that would have forced a young maiden to his lust ; 
but the maiden in no wise would yield, which made her 
cry for help. Robin Good-fellow, seeing of this, turned 
himself into the shape of a hare, and so ran between the 
lustful gallant's legs. This gallant, thinking to have taken 
him, he presently turned himself into a horse, and so perforce 
carried away this gallant on his back. The gentleman cried 
out for help, for he thought that the devil had been come to 
fetch him for his wickedness ; but his crying was in vain, for 
Robin did carry him into a thick hedge, and there left him 



ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW 97 

so pricked and scratched, that he more desired a plaister for his 
pain than a wench for his pleasure. Thus the poor maid 
was freed from this ruffian, and Robin Good-fellow, to see 
this gallant so tame, went away laughing, hoy ho, hoh ! 



HOW ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW TURNED A MISERABLE USURER TO A 
GOOD HOUSE-KEEPER 

In this country of ours there was a rich man dwelled, who 
to get wealth together was so sparing that he could not find 
in his heart to give his belly food enough. In the winter he 
never would make so much fire as would roast a black- 
pudding, for he found it more profitable to sit by other men's. 
His apparel was of the fashion that none did wear ; for it 
was such as did hang at a broker's stall, till it was as weather- 
beaten as an old sign. This man for his covetousness was so 
hated of all his neighbours, that there was not one that gave 
him a good word. Robin Good-fellow grieved to see a 
man of such wealth do so little good, and therefore practised 
to better him in this manner. 

One night the usurer being in bed, Robin in the shape of 
a night-raven came to the window, and there did beat with 
his wings, and croaked in such manner that this old usurer 
thought he should have presently died for fear. This was 
but a preparation to what he did intend ; for presently after 
he appeared before him at his bed's feet, in the shape of a 
ghost, with a torch in his hand. At the sight of this the old 



/ 



v-^ 



98 ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW 

usurer would have risen out of his bed, and have leaped out 
of the window, but he was stayed by Robin Good-fellow, 
who spake to him thus — 

If thou dost stir out of thy bed, 
I do vow to strike thee dead. 
I do come to do thee good ; 
Recall thy wits and starkled blood. 
The money which thou up dost store 
In soul and body makes thee poor. 
Do good with money while you may ; 
Thou hast not long on earth to stay. 
Do good, I say, or day and night 
I hourly thus will thee affright. 
Think on my words, and so farewell. 
For being bad I live in hell. 

Having said thus he vanished away and left this usurer in 
great terror of mind ; and for fear of being frighted again 
with this ghost, he turned very liberal, and lived amongst his 
neighbours as an honest man should do. 

HOW ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW LOVED A WEAVEr's WIFE, AND HOW 
THE WEAVER WOULD HAVE DROWNED HIM 

One day Robin Good-fellow, walking through the street, 
found at the door sitting a pretty woman : this woman was 
wife to the weaver, and was a-winding of quills for her 
husband. Robin liked her so well, that for her sake he 
became servant to her husband, and did daily work at the 
loom ; but all the kindness that he showed was but lost, 
for his mistress would show him no favour, which made him 



ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW 99 

many times to exclaim against the whole sex in satirical 
songs ; and one day being at work he sung this, to the tune 
of Rejoice Bag-pipes — ■ 

Why should my love now wax 

Unconstant, wavering, fickle, unstaid? 
With nought can she me tax : 

I ne'er recanted what I once said. 
I now do see, as nature fades, 

And all her works decay, 
So women all, wives, widows, maids. 

From bad to worse do stray. 

As herbs, trees, roots, and plants 

In strength and growth are daily less, 
So all things have their wants : 

The heavenly signs move and digress ; 
And honesty in women's hearts 

Hath not her former being : 
Their thoughts are ill, like other parts. 

Nought else in them's agreeing. 

I sooner thought thunder 

Had power o'er the laurel wreath. 
Than she, women's wonder. 

Such perjured thoughts should live to breathe. 
They all hyena-like will weep. 

When that they would deceive : 
Deceit in them doth lurk and sleep, 

Which makes me thus to grieve. 

Young man's delight, farewell; 

Wine, women, game, pleasure, adieu: 
Content with me shall dwell ; 

I'll nothing trust but what is true 



lOo ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW 

Though she were false, for her I'll pray ; 

Her falsehood made me blest : 
I will renew from this good day 

My life by sin opprest. 

Moved with this song and other complaints of his, she at 
last did fancy him, so that the weaver did not like that Robin 
should be so saucy with his wife, and therefore gave him 
warning to be gone, for he would keep him no longer. This 
grieved this loving couple to part one from the other, which 
made them to make use of the time that they had. The 
weaver one day coming in, found them a-kissing : at this he 
said [nothing] but vowed in himself to be revenged of his 
man that night following. Night being come, the v/eaver 
went to Robin's bed, and took him out of it (as he then 
thought) and ran apace to the river side to hurl Robin in ; but 
the weaver was deceived, for Robin, instead of himself, had 
laid in his bed a sack full of yarn : it was that that the 
weaver carried to drown. The weaver standing by the river 
side said: — Now will I cool your hot blood, Master Robert, 
and if you cannot swim the better you shall sink and drown, 
With that he hurled the sack in, thinking that it had been 
Robin Good-fellow. Robin, standing behind him, said — 

For this your kindness, master, I you thank : 
Go swim yourself; I'll stay upon the bank. 

With that Robin pushed him in, and went laughing away, 
hoy hoy hoh ! 



ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW 



HOW ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW WENT IN THE SHAPE OF A FIDDLER 
TO A WEDDING, AND OF THE SPORT THAT HE HAD THERE 

On a time there was a great wedding, to which there went 
many young lusty lads and pretty lasses. Robin Good-fellow 
longing not to be out of action, shaped himself like unto a 
fiddler, and with his crowd under his arm went amongst 
them, and was a very welcome man. There played he whilst 
they danced, and took as much delight in seeing them, as 
they did in hearing him. At dinner he was desired to sing 
a song, which he did to the tune of JVatton Toivns End. 

THE SONG 

It was a country lad 

That fashions strange would see, 
And he came to a vaulting school, 

Where tumblers used to be : 
He liked his sport so well, 

That from it he'd not part : 
His doxy to him still did cry, 

Come, buss thine own sweetheart. 

They liked his gold so well. 

That they were both content, 
That he that night with his sweetheart 

Should pass in merriment. 
To bed they then did go ; 

Full well he knew his part, 
Where he with words, and eke with deeds. 

Did buss his own sweetheart. 



102 ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW 

Long were they not in bed, 

But one knocked at the door, 
And said, Up, rise, and let me in: 

This vexed both knave and whore. 
He being sore perplexed 

From bed did liglitly start ; 
No longer then could he endure 

To buss his own sweetheart. 

With tender steps he trod, 

To see if he could spy 
The man that did him so molest ; 

Which he with heavy eye 
Had soon beheld, and said, 

Alas! my own sweetheart, 
1 now do doubt, if e'er we buss, 

It must be in a cart. 

At last the bawd arose 

And opened the door. 
And saw Discretion cloth'd in rug, 

Whose office hates a whore. 
He mounted up the stairs. 

Being cunning in his art ; 
With little search at last he found 

My youth and his sweetheart. 

He having wit at will, 

Unto them both did say, 
I will not hear them speak one word; 

Watchmen, with them away I 
And cause they loved so well 

'Tis pity they should part. 
Away with them to new Bride-well ; 

Tliere buss your own sweetheart. 



ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW 103 

His will it was fulfilled, 

And there they had the law ; 
And whilst that they did nimbly spin, 

The hemp he needs must taw. 
He ground, he thumped, he grew 

So cunning in his art, 
He learnt the trade of beating hemp 

By bussing his sweetheart. 

But yet, he still would say. 

If I could get release 
To see strange fashions I'll give o'er. 

And henceforth live in peace. 
The town where I was bred. 

And think by my desart 
To come no more into this place 

For bussing my sweetheart. 

They all liked his song very well, and said that the young 
man had but ill-luck. Thus continued he playing and sing- 
ing songs till candle-light : then he began to play his merry 
tricks in this manner. First he put out the candles, and 
then, being dark, he struck the men good boxes on the 
ears : they, thinking it had been those that did sit next 
them, fell a-fighting one with the other ; so that there was 
not one of them but had either a broken head or a bloody 
nose. At this Robin laughed heartily. The women did 
not escape him, for the handsomest he kissed ; the other he 
pinched, and made them scratch one the other, as if they had 
been cats. Candles being lighted again, they all were friends, 
and fell again to dancing, and after to supper. 



I04 ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW 

Supper being ended, a great posset was brought forth : at 
this Robin Good-fellow's teeth did water, for it looked so 
lovely that he could not keep from it. To attain to his wish, 
he did turn himself into a bear : both men and women (seeing 
a bear amongst them) ran away, and left the whole posset to 
Robin Good-fellow. He quickly made an end of it, and 
went away without his money ; for the sport he had was 
better to him than any money whatsoever. The fear that the 
guests were in did cause such a smell, that the bridegroom 
did call for perfumes ; and instead of a posset, he was fain to 
make use of cold beer. 



HOW ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW SERVED A TAPSTER FOR 
NICKING HIS POTS 

There was a tapster, that with his pots' smallness, and 
with frothing of his drink, had got a good sum of money 
together. This nicking of the pots he would never leave, 
yet divers times he had been under the hand of authority, but 
what money soever he had [to payj for his abuses, he would 
be sure (as they all do) to get it out of the poor man's pot 
again. Robin Good-fellow, hating such knavery, put a trick 
upon him in this manner. 

Robin shaped himself like to the tapster's brewer, and 
came and demanded twenty pounds which was due to him 
from the tapster. The tapster, thinking it had been his 
brewer, paid him the money, which money Robin gave to the 



ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW 105 

poor of that parish before the tapster's face. The tapster 
praised his charity very much, and said that God would bless 
him the better for such good deeds : so after they had drank, 
one with the other, they parted. 

Some four days after the brewer himself came for his 
money : the tapster told him that it was paid, and that he had 
a quittance from him to show. Hereat the brewer did won- 
der, and desired to see the quittance. The tapster fetched 
him a writing, which Robin Good-fellow had given him 
instead of a quittance, wherein was written as foUoweth, 
which the brewer read to him — 

I, Robin Good-fellow, true man and honest man, do acknowledge 
to have received of Nick and Froth, the cheating tapster, the 
sum of twenty pounds, which money I have bestowed (to the 
tapster's content) among the poor of the parish, out of whose 
pockets this aforesaid tapster had picked the aforesaid sum, 
not after the manner of foisting, but after his excellent skill of 
bombasting, or a pint for a penny. 

If now thou wilt go hang thyself, 

Then take thy apron strings ; 
It doth me good when such foul birds 

Upon the gallows sings. 

Per me Robin Good-fellow. 

At this the tapster swore Walsingham ; but for all his 
swearing, the brewer made him pay him his twenty pounds. 



io6 ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW 



HOW KING OBREON CALLED ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW 
TO DANCE 

King Obreon, seeing Robin Good-fellow do so many 
honest and merry tricks, called him one night out of his bed 
with these words, saying — 

Robin, my son, come quickly, rise: 

First stretch, then yawn, and rub your eyes ; 

For thou must go with me to-night, 

To see, and taste of my delight. 

Quickly come, my wanton son ; 

'Twere time our sports were now begun. 

Robin, hearing this, rose and went to him. There were 
with King Obreon a many fairies, all attired in green silk ; 
all these, with King Obreon, did welcome Robin Good- 
fellow into their company. Obreon took Robin by the hand 
and led him a dance : their musician was little Tom Thumb ; 
for he had an excellent bag-pipe made of a wren's quill, and 
the skin of a Greenland louse : this pipe was so shrill, and so 
sweet, that a Scottish pipe compared to it, it would no more 
come near it, than a Jew's-trump doth to an Irish harp- 
After they had danced. King Obreon spake to his son, Robin 
Good-fellow, in this manner — 

When e'er you hear my piper blow, 
From thy bed see that thou go ; 
For nightly you must with us dance, 
When* we in circles round do prance 



ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW 107 

I love thee, son, and by the hand 

I carry thee to Fairy Land, 

Where thou shalt see what no man knows : 

Such love thee King Obreon owes. 

So marched they in good manner (with their piper before) 
to the Fairy Land : there did King Obreon show Robin 
Good-fellow many secrets, which he never did open to the 
world. 



HOW ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW WAS WONT TO WALK 
IN THE NIGHT 

Robin Good-fellow would many times walk, in the night 
with a broom on his shoulder, and cry " chimney sweep," 
but when any one did call him, then would he run away 
laughing ho, ho, hoh ! Sometimes he would counterfeit a 
beggar, begging very pitifully, but when they came to give 
him an alms, he would run away, laughing as his manner was. 
Sometimes would he knock at men's doors, and when the 
servants came, he would blow out the candle, if they were 
men ; but if they were women, he would not only put out 
their light, but kiss them full sweetly, and then go away as his 
fashion was, ho, ho, hoh! Oftentimes would he sing at a 
door like a singing man, and when they did come to give him 
his reward, he would turn his back and laugh. In these 
humours of his he had many pretty songs, which I will sing 
as perfect as I can. For his chimney-sweeper's humours he 



io8 ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW 

had these songs : the iirst is to the tune of / have been a 
Jiddler these Jifteen years. 

* Black I am from head to foot, 

And all doth come by chimney soot : 
Then maidens, come and cherish him 
That makes your chimneys neat and trim. 

Horns have I store, but all at my back ; 
My head no ornament doth lack : 
I give my horns to other men, 
And ne'er require them again. 

Then come away, you wanton wives, 
That love your pleasures as your lives : 
To each good woman I'll give two, 
Or more, if she think them too few. 

Then would he change his note and sing this following, to 
the tune of What care I hoiu fair she be ? 

Be she blacker than the stock. 

If that thou wilt make her fair. 
Put her in a cambric smock, 

Buy her paint and flaxen hair. 

One your carrier brings to town 

Will put down your city-bred ; 
Put her on a broker's gown. 
That will sell her maiden-head. 

Comes your Spaniard, proud in mind, 
He'll have the first cut, or else none: 

The meek Italian comes behind. 

And your Frenchman picks the bone. 



ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW 109 ^ 

f 

Still she trades with Dutch and Scot, ^ 

Irish, and the German tall, t 

Till she gets the thing you wot ; r 

Then her end 's an hospital. ' 

A song to the tune of Tke Spanish Pavin. \ 

When Virtue was a country maid, 

And had no skill to set up trade, I 

She came up with a carrier's jade, j 

And lay at rack and manger. 
She whiffed her pipe, she drunk her can. 
The pot was ne'er out of her span ; 
She married a tobacco man, 

A stranger, a stranger. 

They set up shop in Honey Lane, 
And thither flies did swarm amain. 
Some from France, some from Spain, 

Train'd in by scurvy panders. 
At last this honey pot grew dry. 
Then both were forced for to fly 

To Flanders, to Flanders. 

Another to the tune of The Coranto. 

I peeped in at the Woolsack, 

O, what a goodly sight did I 

Behold at midnight chime I 

The wenches were drinking of mulled sack ; 

Each youth on his knee, that then did want 

A year and a half of his time. 
They leaped and skipped. 
They kissed and they clipped, | 

And yet it was counted no crime. i 

( 

I 

' \ 



no ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW 

The grocer's chief servant brought sugar, 
And out of his leather pocket he pulled, 
And culled some pound and a half; 
For which he was suffered to smack her 
That was his sweetheart, and would not depart, 
But turned and Itck'd the calf. 

He rung her, and he flung her, 
He kissed her, and he swung her. 
And yet she did nothing but laugh. 

Thus would he sing about cities and towns, and when any 
one called him, he would change his shape, and go laughing 
hoj ho, hoh J For his humours of begging he used this song, 
to the tune of The Jovial Tinker. 

Good people of this mansion. 

Unto the poor be pleased 
To do some good, and give some food, 

That hunger may be eased. 
My limbs with fire are burned, 

My goods and lands defaced ; 
Of wife and child I am beguiled. 

So much am I debased. 
Oh, give the poor some bread, cheese, or butter, 

Bacon, hemp, or flax; 
Some pudding bring, or other thing : 

My need doth make me ax. 

I am no common beggar. 

Nor am I skilled in canting: 
You ne'er shall see a wench with me, 

Such tricks in me are wanting. 



ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW iii 

1 curse not if you give not, 

But still I pray and bless you, 
Still wishing joy, and that annoy 

May never more possess you. 
Oh, give the poor some bread, cheese or butter, 

Bacon, hemp or flax ; 
Some pudding bring, or other thing. 

My need doth make me ax. 

When any came to relieve him, then would he change 
himself into some other shape, and run laughing, ho^ ho,, hoh ! 
Then would he shape himself like to a singing man ; and at 
men's windows and doors sing civil and virtuous songs, one 
of which I will sing to the tune of Broom. 

If thou wilt lead a blest and happy life, 

I will describe the perfect way: 
First must thou shun all cause of mortal strife, 
Against thy lusts continually to pray. 
Attend unto God's word : 
Great comfort 'twill afford ; 
'Twill keep thee from discord. 
Then trust in God, the Lord, 
for ever, 
for ever ; 
And see in this thou persever. 

So soon as day appeareth in the east 

Give thanks to him, and mercy crave ; 
So in this life thou shalt be surely blest, 
And mercy shalt thou find in grave. 
The conscience that is clear 
No horror doth it fear ; 



112 ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW 

'Tis void of mortal care, 
And never doth despair ; 

but ever, 

but ever 
Doth in the word of God persever. 

Thus living, when thou drawest to thy end 
Tliy joys they shall much more increase, 
For then thy soul, thy true and loving friend, 
By death shall find a wished release 
From all that caused sin, 
In which it lived in ; 
For then it doth begin 
Those blessed joys to win, 
for ever, 
for ever, 
For there is nothing can them sever. 

Those blessed joys which then thou shalt possess. 

No mortal tongue can them declare ; 
All earthly joys, compared with this, are less 
Than smallest mote to the world so fair. 
Then is not that man blest 
That must enjoy this rest? 
Full happy is that guest 
Invited to this feast, 
that ever, 
that ever 
Endureth and is ended never. 

When they opened the window or door, then would he 
run away laughing ho, ho, hoh ! Sometimes would he go 
like a bellman in the night, and with many pretty verses 



ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW 



"3 



delight the cars of those that waked at his bell ringing : his 
verses were these — 

Maids in your smocks, 

Look well to your locks, 

And your tinder box, 

Your wheels and your rocks. 

Your hens and your cocks, 

Your cows and your ox, 

And beware of the fox. 

When the bellman knocks, 

Put out your fire and candle-light, 

So they shall not you aflright : 

May you dream of your delights. 

In your sleeps see pleasing sights. 

Good rest to all, both old and young : 

The bellman now hath done his song. 

Then would he go laughing ho, ho, hob ! as his use was. 
Thus would he continually practise himself in honest mirth, 
never doing hurt to any that were cleanly and honest- 
minded. 



\° 



HOW THE FAIRIES CALLED ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW TO DANCE 

WITH THEM, AND HOW THEY SHOWED HIM THEIR 

SEVERAL CONDITIONS 

Robin Good-fellow being walking one night heard the 
excellent music of Tom Thumb's brave bag-pipe : he 
remembering the sound (according to the command of King 
Obreon) went towards them. They, for joy that he was 



114 ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW 

come, did circle him in, and in a ring did dance round about 
him. Robin Good-fellow, seeing their love to him, danced 
in the midst of them, and sung them this song to the tune of 
To htm Bun. 



THE SONG 

Round about, little ones, quick and nimble, 
In and out wheel about, run, hop, or amble. 
Join your hands lovingly : well done, musician I 
Mirth keepeth man in health like a physician. 
Elves, urchins, goblins all, and little fairies 
That do filch, black, and pinch maids of the dairies ; 
Make a ring on the grass with your quick measures, 
Tom shall play, and I'll sing for all your pleasures. 

Pinch and Patch, Gull and Grim, 

Go you together. 
For you can change your shapes 

Like to the weather. 
Sib and Tib, Lick and Lull, 

You all have tricks, too ; 
Little Tom Thumb that pipes 

Shall go betwixt you. 
Tom, tickle up thy pipes 

Till they be weary : 
I will laugh, ho, ho, hoh! 

And make me merry. 
Make a ring on this grass 

With your quick measures : 
Tom shall play, I will sing 

For all your pleasures. 



ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW 115 

The moon shines fair and hright, 

And the owl hollos, 
Mortals now take their rests 

Upon their pillows ; 
The bat's abroad likewise, 

And the night-raven, 
Which doth use for to call 

Men to Death's haven. 
Now the mice peep abroad, 

And the cats take them. 
Now do young wenches sleep, 

Till their dreams wake them. 
Make a ring on the grass 

With your quick measures : 
Tom shall play, I will sing 

For all your pleasures. 

Thus danced they a good space : at last they left and sat 
down upon the grass ; and to requite Robin Good-fellow's 
kindness, they promised to tell to him all the exploits 
that they were accustomed to do : Robin thanked them and 
listened to them, and one began to tell his tricks in this 
manner. 



THE TRICKS OF THE FAIRY CALLED PINCH 

" After that we have danced in this manner as you have 
beheld, I, that am called Pinch, do go about from house to 
house : sometimes I find the doors of the house open ; that 
negligent servant that left them so, I do so nip him or her, 
that with my pinches their bodies are as many colours as a 



ii6 ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW 

mackerel's back. Then take I them, and lay I them in the 
door, naked or unnaked I care not whether : there they lie, 
many times till broad day, ere they waken ; and many times, 
against their wills, they show some parts about them, that 
they would not have openly seen. 

" Sometimes I find a slut sleeping in the chimney-corner, 
when she should be washing of her dishes, or doing some- 
thing else which she hath left undone : her I pinch about the 
arms, for not laying her arms to her labour. Some I find in 
their bed snorting and sleeping, and their houses lying as 
clean as a nasty dog's kennel ; in one corner bones, in 
another egg-shells, behind the door a heap of dust, the dishes 
under feet, and the cat in the cupboard : all these sluttish 
tricks I do reward with blue legs, and blue arms. I find 
some slovens too, as well as sluts : they pay for their 
beastliness too, as well as the women-kind ; for if they 
uncase a sloven and not untie their points, I so pay their 
arms that they cannot sometimes untie them, if they would. 
Those that leave foul shoes, or go into their beds with their 
stockings on, I use them as I did the former, and never leave 
them till they have left their beastliness. 

But to the good I do no harm, 

But cover them and keep them warm ; 

Sluts and slovens I do pinch, 

And make them in their beds to winch 

This is my practice, and my trade ; 

Many have I cleanly made." 



ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW 117 

THE TRICKS OF THE FAIRY CALLED PATCH 

" About midnight do I walk, and for the tricks I play they 
call me Patch. When I find a slut asleep, I smutch her 
face if it be clean ; but if it be dirty, I wash it in the next 
piss pot that I can find : the balls I use to wash such sluts 
withal is a sow's pancake or a pilgrim's salve. Those that 
I find with their heads nitty and scabby, for want of combing, 
I am their barbers, and cut their hair as close as an ape's 
tail ; or else clap so much pitch on it, that they must cut it 
off themselves to their great shame. Slovens also that 
neglect their masters' business, they do not escape. Some I 
find that spoil their masters' horses for want of currying : 
those I do daub with grease and soot, that they are fain to 
curry themselves ere they can get clean. Others that for 
laziness will give the poor beasts no meat, I oftentimes so 
punish them with blows, that they cannot feed themselves 
they are so sore. 

Thus many tricks I Patch can do, 
But to the good I ne'er was foe : 
The bad I hate and will do ever, 
Till they from ill themselves do sever. 
To help the good I'll run and go, 
The bad no good from me shall know." 

THE TRICKS OF THE FAIRY CALLED GULL 

" When mortals keep their beds I walk abroad, and for my 
pranks am called by the name of Gull. I with a feigned 



ii8 ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW 

voice do often deceive many men, to their great amazement. 
Many times I get on men and women, and so lie on their 
stomachs, that I cause there great pain, for which they call 
me by the name of Hag, or Nightmare. 'Tis I that do 
steal children, and in the place of them leave changelings. 
Sometimes I also steal milk and cream, and then with my 
brothers. Patch, Pinch, and Grim, and sisters Sib, Tib, 
Lick, and Lull, I feast with my stolen goods : our little 
piper hath his share in all our spoils, but he nor our women 
fairies do ever put themselves in danger to do any great 
exploit. 

What Gull can do, I have you shown ; 

I am inferior unto none. 

Command me, Robin, thou shalt know, 

That I for thee will ride or go : 

I can do greater things than these 

Upon the land, and on the seas." 



THE TRICKS OF THE FAIRY CALLED GRIM 

" I walk with the owl, and make many to cry as loud 
as she doth hollo. Sometimes I do affright many simple 
people, for which some have termed me the Black Dog of 
Newgate. At the meetings of young men and maids 
I many times am, and when they are in the midst of all 
their good cheer, I come in, in some fearful shape, and 
affright them, and then carry away their good cheer, and eat 
it with my fellow fairies. 'Tis I that do, like a screech- 



ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW 119 

owl, cry at sick men's windows, which makes the hearers so 
fearful, that they say, that the sick person cannot live. 
Many other ways have I to fright the simple, but the under- 
standing man I cannot move to fear, because he knows I 
have no power to do hurt. 

My nightly business I have told, 
To play these tricks I use of old : 
When candles burn both blue and dim, 
Old folk will say. Here's fairy Grim. 
More tricks than these I use to do : 
Hereat cried Robin, Ho, ho, hoh ! " 



THE TRICKS OF THE WOMEN FAIRIES TOLD BY SIB 

" To walk nightly, as do the men fairies, we use not ; but 
now and then we go together, and at good housewives' fires 
we warm and dress our fairy children. If we find clean 
water and clean towels, we leave them money, either in their 
basins or in their shoes ; but if we find no clean water in 
their houses, we wash our children in their pottage, milk, or 
beer, or whate'er we find : for the sluts that leave not such 
things fitting, we wash their faces and hands with a gilded 
child's clout, or else carry them to some river, and duck 
them over head and ears. We often use to dwell in some 
great hill, and from thence we do lend money to any poor 
man or woman that hath need ; but if they bring it not again 
at the day appointed, we do not only punish them with 



I20 ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW 

pinching, but also in their goods, so that they never thrive 
till they have paid us. 

Tib and I the chiefest are, 

And for all things do take care. 

Lick is cook and dresseth meat, 

And fetcheth all things that we eat : 

Lull is nurse and tends the cradle. 

And the babes doth dress and swaddle. 

This little fellow, called Tom Thumb, 

That is no bigger than a plum, 

He is the porter to our gate. 

For he doth let all in thereat, 

And makes us merry with his play. 

And merrily we spend the day." 

She having spoken, Tom Thumb stood up on tip-toe and 
showed himself, saying — 

My actions all in volumes two are wrote, 
The least of which will never be forgot. 

He had no sooner ended his two lines, but a shepherd 
(that was watching in the field all night) blew up a bag-pipe : 
this so frightened Tom, that he could not tell what to do for 
the present time. The fairies seeing Tom Thumb in such a 
fear, punished the shepherd with his pipes' loss, so that the 
shepherd's pipe presently brake in his hand, to his great 
amazement. Hereat did Robin Good-fellow laugh, ho^ ho, 
hoh ! Morning being come, they all hasted to Fairy Land, 
where I think they yet remain. 



ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW 121 

My hostess asked me how I liked this tale ? I said, it 
was long enough, and good enough to pass time that might 
be worser spent. I, seeing her dry, called for two pots : she 
emptied one of them at a draught, and never breathed for the 
matter : I emptied the other at leisure ; and being late I 
went to bed, and did dream of this which I had heard. 



THE ROMANCE OF THOMAS 
OF ERCELDOUNE 

Fytte 1 

As I me went this endris day, 

Full fast in mind making my moan, 
In a merry morning of May 

By Huntlie banks myself alone, 
I heard the jay and the throstle-cock ; 5 

The mavis meaned her of her song ; 
The woodwale berM as a bell, 

That all the wood about me rong. 
Alone in longing thus as I lay 

Underneath a seemly tree, 10 

Saw I where a lady gay 

Came riding over a longe lea. 
If I should sit to Doomesday 

With my tongue to wrable and wry, 

I. endris, last. 6. meaned, moaned, 

7. ber'ed, sounded. The woodw^ale is some kind of wood-bird. 
14. •wrabk and wry, ? wriggle and twist, /. e. in the attempt to 
describe her. 



THOMAS OF ERCELDOUNE 123 

Certainly that lady gay 1 5 

Never be she described for me ! 
Her palfrey was a dapple-gray, 

Swilk one ne saw I never none ; 
As does the sun on summer's day, 

That fair lady herself she shone. 20 

Her saddle it was of roelle-bone ; 

Full seemly was that sight to see ! 
Stiffly set with precious stone 

And compast all with crapotee — 
Stones of Orient great plenty ; 25 

Her hair about her head it hang ; 
She rode over that longe lea ; 

A while she blew, another she sang. 
Her girths of noble silk, they were ; 

The buckles were of beryl-stone ; 30 

Her stirrups were of crystal clear. 

And all with pearl overbegone ; 
Her paytrell was of iral-stone ; 

Her crupper was of orphare ; 
And as clear gold her bridle shone ; 35 

On either side hang belles three. 

18. Sivilk, such. 

21. roelle-bone; a commonplace in early poetry, as the material 
for saddles ; meaning unknown. 

24. crapotee, toad-Stone. 32. overbegone, overlaid. 

33. />ay/rf//=:poitrail, breast-leather of a horse; Iral (?), 

34. orf/iare — orkrvis, goldsmith's work. 



124 THE ROMANCE OF 

She led three grew-hounds in a leash, 

And seven raches by her they ran ; 
She bare an horn about her halse, 

And under her belt full many a flane. 40 

Thomas lay and saw that sight 

Underneath a seemly tree. 
He said " Yon is Mary most of might, 

That bare that child that died for me. 
But-if I speak with yon lady bright, 45 

I hope my heart will break in three ! 
Now shall I go with all my might 

Her for to meet at Eildon tree." 
Thomas rathely up he rase, 

And he ran over that mountain high ; 50 

If it be as the story says, 

Her he met at Eildon tree. 
He kneelfed down upon his knee. 

Underneath that greenwood spray, 
And said " Lovely lady, rue on me, 55 

Queen of heaven, as thou well may ! " 
Then spake that lady mild of thought, 

" Thomas, let such wordfes be ; 
Queen of heaven ne am I nought. 

For I took never so high degree. 60 

38. raches^ dogs. 39. halse, neck. 

40. Jlane, arrow. 45. But-if, unless. 

49. rathely, quickly. 



THOMAS OF ERCELDOUNE 125 

But I am of another country, 

If I be 'parelled most of price ; 
I ride after these wilde fee ; 

My raches runn&s at my device." 
*' If thou be 'parelled most of price, 65 

And here rides thus in thy folly. 
Of love, lady, as thou art wise. 

Thou give me leave to lie thee by ! " 
She said " Thou man, that were folly ; 

I pray thee, Thomas, thou let me be; 70 

For I say thee full sekerly, 

That sin will fordo all my beauty." 
*' Now, lovely lady, rue on me. 

And I will evermore with thee dwell ; 
Here my troth I will plight to thee, 75 

Whether thou wilt in heaven or hell." 
" Man of mould, thou wilt me mar ; 

But yet thou shalt have all thy will ; 
And, trow it well, thou 'chievest the ware. 

For all my beauty wilt thou spill." 80 

Down then light that lady bright 

Underneath that greenwood spray. 
And, as the story tells full right. 

Seven times by her he lay. 
She said " Man, thee likes thy play ; 85 

63. /cf, beasts, cattle. 71. sekerly, truly. 

79. zua'e, worse. 



126 THE ROMANCE OF 

What byrde in bower may deal with thee ? 
Thou marrest me all this longe day ; 

I pray thee, Thomas, let me be ! " 
Thomas stood up in that stead, 

And he beheld that lady gay ; 90 

Her hair it hang all over her head ; 

Her eyne were out, that ere were gray ; 
And all the rich clothing was away 

That he before saw in that stead ; 
Her one shank black, her other gray, 95 

And all her body like the lead. 
Then said Thomas '* Alas, alas ! 

In faith this is a duleful sight ; 
How art thou faded thus in the face, 

That shone before as the sun so bright ! " 100 
She said, " Thomas, take leave at sun and moon, 

And also at leaf that grows on tree ; 
This twelvemonth shalt thou with me gone, 

And Middle-earth shalt thou none see." 
He kneeled down upon his knee, 105 

Underneath that greenwood spray. 
And said " Lovely lady, rue on me, 

Mild queen of heaven, as thou best may ! 

86. byrde, bride. 89. stead, place. 

98, duleful, painful. 103. gone=^go (old infinitive). 

104. Middle-earth — '^■ix\}Ci, the middle region in the old Northern 
cosmogony. 

107. Thomas is here addressing the Virgin. 



THOMAS OF ERCELDOUNE 127 

Alas ! " he said, " and woe is me ! 

I trow my deeds will work me care ; 1 10 

My soul, Jesu, beteach I thee, 

Whithersoever my bones shall fare." 
She led him in at Eildon hill 

Underneath a derne lea, 
Where it was dark as midnight mirk, 1 1 5 

And ever the water till his knee. 
The mountenance of dayes three 

He heard but swoughing of the flood ; 
At the last he said " Full woe is me ! 

Almost I die for fault of food." 120 

She led him intill a fair herbere 

Where fruit was growing great plenty ; 
Pear and apple, both ripe they were, 

The date, and also the damasee, 
The fig, and also the wine-berry ; 125 

The night^gales bigging on their nest ; 
The papejoys fast about gan fly, 

And throstles sang, would have no rest. 
He pressed to pull fruit with his hand, 

As man for food that was near faint. 1 30 

She said " Thomas, thou let them stand, 

Or else the fiend thee will attaint ! 

III. beteach, entrust, hand over to. 114. derne, secret. 

117. mountenance, space. 121. herbere, garden. 

126. b'lgglng^ building. 127. papejoys, popinjays, parrots. 



128 THE ROMANCE OF 

If thou it pluck, soothly to say, 

Thy soul goes to the fire of hell ; 
It comes never out or Doom^sday, 135 

But there in pain aye for to dwell, 
Thomas, soothly, I thee hight, 

Come lay thy head down on my knee. 
And thou shalt see the fairest sight 

That ever saw man of thy country." 140 

He did in hight as she him bade ; 

Upon her knee his head he laid. 
For her to pay he was full glad, 

And then that lady to him said : 
"Seest thou now yon fair way, 145 

That lieth over yon high mountain ? 
Yon is the way to heaven for aye 

When sinful souls are past their pain. 
Seest thou now yon other way, 

That lieth low beneath yon rise ? 150 

Yon is the way, thee sooth to say, 

Unto the joy of Paradise. 
Seest thou yet yon thirde way. 

That lieth under yon greene plain ? 

137. hight, command. 

141. hight (MS. hyd),? pleasure. 

143- J"'y> please. 

145. _/air, pronounced as two syllables. 

150. rise, brushwood, undergrowth. 



THOMAS OF ERCELDOUNE 129 

Yon is the way, with teen and tray, 155 

Where sinful soul^s suffer their pain. 
But seest thou now yon fourths way, 

That lieth over yon deepe dell ? 
Yon is the way, so wellaway ! 

Unto the burning fire of hell. 160 

Seest thou yet yon fair castel, 

That standeth over yon high& hill ? 
Of town and tower it bears the bell, 

In earth is none like it untill. 
For sooth, Thomas, yon is mine own, 165 

And the king's of this country ; 
But me were lever be hanged and drawn 

Or that he wist thou lay me by. 
When thou com'st to yon castle gay, 

I pray thee courteous man to be, 1 70 

And whatso any man to thee say, 

Look thou answer none but me. 
My lord is served at each mess 

With thirty knightes fair and free ; 
I shall say, sitting at the dess, 1 7 5 

I took thy speech beyond the sea." 
Thomas still as stone he stood. 

And he beheld that lady gay ; 

155. teen and tray, pain and trouble. 

167. me ivere lever, I had rather. 

168. Or that, ere that, before that. 175. dess, dai's. 

K 



130 THE ROMANCE OF 

She came again as fair and good 

And also rich on her palfrey. 180 

Her grewhounds fillM with deer-blood ; 

Her raches coupled, by my fay ; 
She blew her horn with main and mood ; 

Unto the castle she took the way. 
Into the hall soothly she went ; 185 

Thomas follow&d at her hand ; 
Then ladies came, both fair and gent, 

With courtesy to her kneeland. 
Harp and fithel both they fand, 

Gittern and also the sawtery, 190 

Lute and ribib both gangand, 

And all manner of minstrelsy. 
The most marvel that Thomas thought. 

When that he stood upon the floor, 
For fifty hartes in were brought, 195 

That were both^ great and store. 
Raches lay lapping in the blood ; 

Cook^s came with dressing- knife ; 
They brittened them as they were wood ; 

Revel among them was full rife. 200 

183. main and mood, might and main. 

188. kneeland— kneeWng. Cf. 1. 191. 1%^. fand, found. 

J 90. .fa'M'/fry = psaltery. 

191. ribib, rebeck, lute; gangand— going. 

196. store, plentiful. 

199. brittened =hxiit\^A, cut up (the deer). 



THOMAS OF ERCELDOUNE 131 

Knightes danced by three and three, 

There was revel, gamen, and play ; 
Lovely ladies, fair and free, 

That sat and sang on rich array. 
Thomas dwelled in that solace 205 

More than I you say, pardfe ; 
Till on a day, so have I grace. 

My lovely lady said to me ; 
" Do busk thee, Thomas ; thee buse again ; 

For thou may here no longer be ; 210 

Hie thee fast with might and main ; 

I shall thee bring till Eildon tree." 
Thomas said then with heavy cheer, 

" Lovely lady, now let me be; 
For certes, lady, I have been here 215 

Nought but the space of day^s three ! " 
" For sooth, Thomas, as I thee tell, 

Thou hast been here three year and more ; 
But longer here thou may not dwell ; 

The skill I shall thee tell wherefore. 220 

To-morn, of hell the foul6 fiend 

Among this folk will fetch his fee ; 
And thou art mickle man and hend, 

I trow full well he would choose thee. 

209. thee buse = it behoves thee. Cf. 1. 234. 

213. cheer, look, face. 220. skill, reason. 

221. 7o-OTor/i, in the morning. 223. //fW, noble, mighry. 



132 THOMAS OF ERCELDOUNE 

For all the gold that ever may be 225 

From hethen unto the worldes end, 
Thou beest never betrayed for me ; 

Therefore with me I rede thou wend." 
She brought him again to Eildon tree, 

Underneath that greenwood spray. 230 

In Huntlie banks is merry to be, 

Where fowl^s sing both night and day. 
" Farewell, Thomas, I wend my way. 

For me buse over the bent^s brown." 
— Lo, here a fytte ; more is to say 235 

All of Thomas of Erceldoune. 

226. heihfnzzhence. Cf. sithen = since. 
228. rede, advise. 

232. Four lines of the MSS. omitted here. 
234. l/use. See note on 1. 209. 



REGINALD SCOT 

DISCOVERY OF WITCHCRAFT (1584) 

From "To the Readers." 

I should no more prevail herein {j. e. in securing attention] 
than if a hundred years since I should have entreated your 
predecessors to believe, that Robin Goodfellow, that great 
and ancient bull-beggar, had been but a cozening merchant 
and no devil indeed. . . . But Robin Goodfellow ceaseth 
now to be much feared, and popery is sufficiently discovered. 

Book I, chap. iv. — *< What miraculous actions are imputed 
to witches by witchmongers, papists, and poets." 

[Quoted here to show that certain attributes of Shake- 
speare's fairies belong also to witches.J 

[They] raise hail, tempests, and hurtful weather, as 
lighting, thunder, &c. . . . These can pass from place to 
place in the air invisible. . . . These can alter men's 
minds to inordinate love or hate. . . . Ovid affirmeth that 
they can raise and suppress lighting and thunder, rain and 
hail, clouds and winds, tempests and earthquakes. Others 
do write that they can pull down the moon and the stars. . . . 

133 



134 REGINALD SCOT 

They can also bring to pass, that, churn as long as you list, 
your butter will not come. 

Book III, chap. iv. 

The Fairies do principally inhabit the mountains and 
caverns of the earth, whose nature is to make strange appari- 
tions on the earth, in meadows or on mountains, being like 
men and women, soldiers, kings, and ladies, children and 
horsemen, clothed in green, to which purpose they do in the 
night steal hempen stalks from the fields where they grow, 
to convert them into horses, as the story goes. . . . Such 
jocund and facetious spirits are said to sport themselves in 
the night by tumbling and fooling with servants and shepherds 
in country houses, pinching them black and blue, and leaving 
bread, butter, and cheese sometimes with them, which, if 
they refuse to eat, some mischief shall undoubtedly befall 
them by the means of these Fairies ; and many such have 
been taken away by the said spirits for a fortnight or a 
month together, being carried with them in chariots through 
the air, over hills and dales, rocks and precipices, till at last 
they have been found lying in some meadow or mountain, 
bereaved of their senses and commonly one of their members 
to boot. 

Book III, chap. xvi. 

It may not be omitted that certain wicked women . . . 
being seduced by the illusion of devils, believe and profess 



REGINALD SCOT ^35 

that in the night-times they ride abroad with Diana, the 
goddess of the Pagans, or else with Herodias, with an 
innumerable multitude, upon certain beasts, and pass over 
many countries and nations in the silence of the night, and 
do whatsoever those fairies or ladies command. 

Book IV, chap. x. 

Indeed your grandam's maids were wont to set a bowl 
of milk before him and his cousin, Robin Goodfellow, for 
grinding of malt or mustard, and sweeping the house at mid- 
night ; and you have also heard that he would chafe exceed- 
ingly, if the maid or goodwife of the house, having compassion 
of his nakedness, laid any clothes for him, besides his mess of 
white bread and milk which was his standing fee. For in 
that case he saith : What have we here ? Hemton hamton, 
here will I never more tread nor stampen. 

Book V, chap. iii. " Of a man turned into an ass, and 
returned again into a man, by one of Bodin's witches : 
S. Augustine's opinion thereof." (Seep. 30.) 

It happened in the city of Salamin in the kingdom of 
Cyprus, where there is a good haven, that a ship loaden with 
merchandise stayed there for a short space. In the meantime 
many of the soldiers and mariners went to shore, to provide 
fresh victuals ; among which number a certain Englishman, 
being a sturdy young fellow, went to a woman's house, a 
little way out of the city, and not far from the sea-side, to 



136 REGINALD SCOT 

see whether she had any eggs to sell. Who, perceiving him 
to be a lusty young fellow, a stranger, and far from his 
country (so as, upon the loss of him, there would be the less 
miss or enquiry), she considered with herself how to destroy 
him ; and willed him to stay there awhile, whilst she went 
to fetch a few eggs for him. But she tarried long, so as the 
young man called unto her desiring her to make haste ; for 
he told her that the tide would be spent, and by that means 
his ship would be gone, and leave him behind. Howbeit, 
after some detracting of time, she brought him a few eggs, 
willing him to return to her, if his ship were gone when he 
came. 

The young fellow returned towards his ship, but before he 
went aboard, he would needs eat an egg or twain to satisfy 
his hunger ; and within short space he became dumb and 
out of his wits, as he afterwards said. When he would 
have entered into the ship, the mariners beat him back with 
a cudgel, saying, " What a murrain lacks the ass ? Whither 
the devil will this ass ? " The ass, or young man — I 
cannot tell by which name I should term him— being many 
times repelled, and understanding their words that called 
him ass, considering that he could speak never a word and 
yet could understand everybody, he thought that he was 
bewitched by the woman at whose house he was. And 
therefore, when by no means he could get into the boat, but 
was driven to tarry and see her departure, being also beaten 
from place to place as an ass, he remembered the witch's 



REGINALD SCOT 137 

words, and the words of his own fellows that called him ass, 
and returned to the witch's house ; in whose service he 
remained by the space of three years, doing nothing with his 
hands all that while, but carried such burthens as she laid on 
his back ; having only this comfort, that, although he were 
reputed an ass among strangers and beasts, yet that both this 
witch and all other witches knew him to be a man. 

After three years were passed over, in a morning betimes 
he went to town before his dame, who upon some occasion 
. . . stayed a little behind. In the meantime being near to 
a church, he heard a little sacring-bell ring to the elevation 
of a morrow mass ; and not daring to go into the church, 
lest he should have been beaten and driven out with cudgels, 
in great devotion he fell down in the churchyard upon the 
knees of his hinder legs, and did lift his forefeet over his 
head, as the priest doth hold the sacrament at the elevation. 
Which prodigious sight when certain merchants of Genoa 
espied, and with wonder beheld, anon cometh the witch v/ith 
a cudgel in her hand, beating forth the ass. And because, as 
it hath been said, such kinds of witchcrafts are very usual 
in those parts, the merchants aforesaid made such means as 
both the ass and the witch were attached by the judge. 
And she, being examined and set upon the rack, confessed 
the whole matter, and promised that if she might have 
liberty to go home, she would restore him to his old shape ; 
and being dismissed she did accordingly. So as notwith- 
standing they apprehended her again, and burned her ; and the 



138 REGINALD SCOT 

young man returned into his country with a joyful and merry 
heart. 



Book VII, chap. ii. 

" Know you this by the way, that heretofore Robin 
Goodfellow and Hobgoblin were as terrible, and also as 
credible to the people, as hags and witches be now : and in 
time to come a witch will be as much derided and contemned, 
and as plainly perceived, as the illusion and knavery of Robin 
Goodfellow. And in truth, they that maintain walking spirits 
with their transformation, &c., have no reason to deny Robin 
Goodfellow, upon whom there hath gone as many and as 
credible tales as upon witches ; saving that it hath not pleased 
the translators of the Bible to call spirits by the name of 
Robin Goodfellow, as they have termed diviners, soothsayers, 
poisoners, and cozeners by the name of witches." 

Book VII, chap. XV. 

" But certainly some one knave in a white sheet hath 
cozened and abused many thousands that way ; specially when 
Robin Goodfellow kept such a coil in the country. . . . 
They [^our mothers' maidsj have so fraid us with bull-beggars, 
spirits, witches, urchins, elves, hags, fairies, satyrs, pans, fauns, 
sylens, Kit with the canstick, tritons, centaurs, dwarfs, giants, 
imps, calkers, conjurors, nymphs, changelings. Incubus, Robin 
Goodfellow, the spoorn, the mare, the man in the oak, the 
hell-wain, the fire-drake, the puckle, Tom Thumb, hobgoblin. 



REGINALD SCOT 139 

Tom tumbler, boneless, and other such beings, that we are 
afraid of our own shadows." 

Book XIII, chap. xix. [To set an horse's or an ass's 
head on a man's neck and shoulders.] (See p. 30.) 

The words used in such case are uncertain, and to be 
recited at the pleasure of the witch or cozener. But at the 
conclusion of this, cut off the head of a horse or an ass (before 
they be dead, otherwise the virtue or strength thereof will be 
the less effectual), and make an earthen vessel of fit capacity 
to contain the same, and let it be filled with the oil and fat 
thereof, cover it close, and daub it over with loam ; let it boil 
over a soft fire three days continually, that the flesh boiled 
may run into oil, so as the bare bones may be seen ; beat the 
hair into powder, and mingle the same with the oil ; and anoint 
the heads of the standers by, and they shall seem to have 
horses' or asses' heads. 

Discourse upon Devils and Spirits, chap. xi. 

" The Rabbins and, namely, Rabbi Abraham, writing upon 
the second of Genesis, do say that God made the fairies, 
bugs, Incubus, Robin Goodfellow, and other familiar or 
domestic spirits and devils on the Friday ; and being prevented 
with the evening of the Sabbath, finished them not, but left 
them unperfect ; and that therefore, that ever since they use 
to fly the holiness of the Sabbath, seeking dark holes in 
mountains and woods, wherein they hide themselves till the 



140 REGINALD SCOT 

end of the Sabbath, and then come abroad to trouble and 
molest men." 

Discourse, k^fc, chap. xxi. 

" Virunculi terre't are such as was Robin Goodfellow, that 
would supply the office of servants — specially of maids : as to 
make a fire in the morning, sweep the house, grind mustard 
and malt, draw water, &c. ; these also rumble in houses, draw 
latches, go up and down stairs, &c. . . . There go as many 
tales upon this Hudgin in some parts of Germany, as there 
did in England of Robin Goodfellow." 



STRANGE FARLIES 

Strange farlies ^ fathers told 
Of fiends and hags of hell ; 
And how that Circes, when she would, 
Could skill of sorcery well; 

And how old thin-faced wives, 
That roasted crabs by night, 
Did tell of monsters in their lives 
That now prove shadows light ; 

And told what Merlin spoke 
Of world and times to come ; 
But all that fire doth make no smoke, 
For in mine ear doth hum 

Another kind of bee. 
That sounds a tune most strange, 
A trembling noise of words to me 
That makes my countenance change. 

^farlies, marvels. 
141 



142 STRANGE FARLIES 

Of old Hobgobling's guise, 
That walked like ghost in sheets, 
With maids that would not early rise 
For fear of bugs and sprites. 

Some say the fairies fair 
Did dance on Bednall Green, 
And fine familiars of the air 
Did talk with men unseen. 

And oft in moonshine nights, 
When each thing draws to rest, 
Was seen dumb shows and ugly sights 
That feared ^ every guest 

Which lodged in the house ; 
And where good cheer was great, 
Hodgepoke would come and drink carouse 
And munch up all the meat. 

But where foul sluts did dwell, 
Who used to sit up late, 
And would not scour the pewter well. 
There came a merry mate 

To kitchen or to hall, 
Or place where sprites resort ; 
Then down went dish and platters all 
To make the greater sport. 
^feared, frightened. 



STRANGE FARLIES 143 

A further sport fell out 
When they to spoil did fall ; 
Rude Robin Goodfellow, the lout, 
Would skim the milk-bowls all, 

And search the cream-pots too, 
For which poor milk-maid weeps. 
God wot what such mad guests will do 
When people soundly sleeps ! 



These are but fables feigned, 
Because true stories old 
In doubtful days are more disdained 
Than any tale is told. 

Thomas Churchyard 
from A Handfull of Gladsome 
Verses ( 1592). 



THE MAD MERRY PRANKS OF ROBIN 
GOOD.FELLOW 

(To the Tune of Dulc'ma.) 

From Oberon, in fairy land, 

The king of ghosts and shadows there, 
Mad Robin I, at his command, 

Am sent to view the night-sports here. 

What revel rout 

Is kept about. 
In every corner where I go, 

I will o'ersee, 

And merry be, 
And make good sport, with ho, ho, ho ! 

More swift than lightning can I fly 

About this airy welkin soon, 
And, in a minute's space, descry 

Each thing that's done below the moon. 
There's not a hag 
Or ghost shall wag, 
Or cry, ware Goblins ! where I go, 
But Robin I 
Their feats will spy, 
And send them home, with ho, ho, ho ! 
144 



ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW 145 

Whene'er such wanderers I meet, 

As from their night-sports they trudge home ; 
With counterfeiting voice I greet 

And call them on, with me to roam 

Thro' woods, thro' lakes, 

Thro' bogs, thro' brakes ; 
Or else, unseen, with them I go. 

All in the nick 

To play some trick 
And frolic it, with ho, ho, ho ! 

Sometimes I meet them like a man ; 

Sometimes an ox, sometimes a hound ; 
And to a horse I turn me can. 

To trip and trot about them round. 

But if, to ride, 

My back they stride, 
More swift than wind away I go. 

O'er hedge and lands, 

Thro' pools and ponds 
I whirry, laughing ho, ho, ho ! 

When lads and lasses merry be. 

With possets and with junkets fine ; 
Unseen of all the company, 

I eat their cakes and sip their wine ; 
And, to make sport, 
I sniff and snort ; 



146 THE MAD MERRY PRANKS OF 

And out the candles I do blow : 

The maids I kiss ; 

They shriek — Who's this ? 
I answer nought but ho, ho, ho ! 



Yet now and then, the maids to please, 
At midnight I card up their wool ; 
And while they sleep and take their ease. 
With wheel to threads their flax I pull. 

I grind at mill 

Their malt up still ; 
I dress their hemp, 1 spin their tow, 

If any wake, 

And would me take, 
I wend me, laughing ho, ho, ho ! 

When house or hearth doth sluttish lie, 

I pinch the maidens black and blue ; 
The bed-clothes from the bed pull I, 
And lay them naked all to view. 
'Twixt sleep and wake, 
I do them take. 
And on the key-cold floor them throw : 
If out they cry, 
Then forth I fly, 
And loudly laugh out ho, ho, ho ! 



ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW 147 

When any need to borrow ought, 

We lend them what they do require : 
And for the use demand we nought ; 
Our own is all we do desire. 

If to repay 

They do delay, 
Abroad amongst them then I go, 

And, night by night, 

I them affright 
With pinchings, dreams, and ho, ho, ho ! 

When lazy queans have nought to do, 

But study how to cog and lie ; 
To make debate and mischief too, 
'Twixt one another secretly : 
I mark their gloze, 
And it disclose. 
To them whom they have wronged so : 
When I have done, 
I get me gone, 
And leave them scolding, ho, ho, ho ! 

When men do traps and engines set 

In loop-holes, where the vermin creep. 
Who from their folds and houses, get 

Their ducks and geese, and lambs and sheep ; 
I spy the gin. 
And enter in, 



148 ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW 

And seem a vermin taken so ; 

But when they there 

Approach me near, 
I leap out laughing ho, ho, ho ! 

By wells and rills, in meadows green, 

We nightly dance our heydeguys ; 
And to our fairy king and queen 

We chant our moon-light minstrelsies. 
When larks 'gin sing, 
Away we fling ; 
And babes new-born steal as we go. 
And elf in bed 
We leave instead, 
And wend us laughing, ho, ho, ho ! 

From hag-bred Merlin's time have I 

Thus nightly revell'd to and fro : 
And for my pranks men call me by 

The name of Robin Good-fellow. 

Fiends, ghosts, and sprites, 

Who haunt the nights. 
The hags and goblins do me know ; 

And beldames old 

My feats have told ; 
So Fale, Vale ; ho, ho, ho ! 

A black-letter broadside, XVI Ith cent. 



QUEEN MAB 

Satyr. This is Mab, the mistress fairy, 
That doth nightly rob the dairy, 
And can hunt or help the churning 
As she please without discerning. 

She that pinches country wenches 
If they rub not clean their benches, 
And with sharper nails remembers 
When they rake not up their embers ; 
But if so they chance to feast her, 
In a shoe she drops a tester. 

This is she that empties cradles. 
Takes out children, puts in ladles ; 
Trains forth midwives in their slumber, 
With a sieve the holes to number, 
And then leads them from her boroughs 
Home through ponds and water-furrows. 

She can start our franklins' daughters. 
In her sleep, with shrieks and laughters, 
149 



T50 QUEEN MAB 

And on sweet St. Anna's night 
Feed them with a promised sight — 
Some of husbands, some of lovers, 
Which an empty dream discovers. 

Ben Jonson, masque of y^ Satyr (1603). 



A Proper New Ballad, intituled 

THE FAIRIES' FAREWELL : OR 
GOD-A-MERCY WILL 

(To be sung or whistled to the Tune of the Meadoiv Brow 
by the learned ; by the unlearned, to the Tune of Fortune.) 

Farewell rewards and Fairies ! 

Good housewives, now you may say ; 
For now foul sluts in dairies 

Do fare as well as they ; 
And though they sweep their hearths no less 

Than maids were wont to do, 
Yet who of late for cleanliness 

Finds sixpence in her shoe ? 

Lament, lament old abbeys, 

The fairies' lost command ; 
They did but change priests' babies ; 

But some have changed your land ; 
151 



152 THE FAIRIES' FAREWELL 

And all your children sprung from thence 

Are now grown Puritans, 
Who live as changelings ever since 

For love of your demesnes. 

At morning and at evening both 

You merry were and glad, 
So little care of sleep or sloth 

These pretty ladies had. 
When Tom came home from labour, 

Or Ciss to milking rose, 
Then merrily, merrily went their tabour. 

And nimbly went their toes. 

Witness those rings and roundelays 

Of theirs, which yet remain, 
Were footed in Queen Mary's days 

On many a grassy plain. 
But since of late Elizabeth 

And later James came in. 
They never danced on any heath, 

As when the time hath bin. 

By which we note the fairies 
Were of the old profession ; 

Their songs were Ave Maries, 
Their dances were procession. 



THE FAIRIES' FAREWELL 153 

But now, alas ! they all are dead, 

Or gone beyond the seas, 
Or farther for religion fled. 

Or else they take their ease. 

A tell-tale in their company 

They never could endure ; 
And whoso kept not secretly 

Their mirth, was punished sure : 
It was a just and Christian deed 

To pinch such black and blue : 
O how the common-wealth doth Qneed] 

Such justices as you ! 

Now they have left our quarters ; 

A Register they have 
Who looketh to their charters, 

A man both wise and grave. 
An hundred of their merry pranks 

By one that I could name 
Are kept in store ; con twenty thanks 

To William for the same. 



To William Churne of Stafl^ordshire 
Give laud and praises due. 

Who every meal can mend your cheer 
With tales both old and true : 



154 THE FAIRIES' FAREWELL 

To William all give audience, 
And pray ye for his noddle : 

For all the fairies evidence 
Were lost, if it were addle. 

Richard Corbet (1582-1625), 
from Poetica Stromata ( 1 648 ) 



THE FAIRY QUEEN 

Come, follow, follow me, 
You fairy elves that be. 
Which circle on the green, 
Come follow me your queen ; 
Hand in hand let's dance around. 
For this place is fairy ground. 

When mortals are at rest, 

And snorting in their nest. 

Unheard and unespied 

Through keyholes we do glide ; 
Over tables, stools, and shelves. 
We trip it with our fairy elves. 

And if the house be foul. 
Or platter, dish, or bowl. 
Upstairs we nimbly creep 
And find the sluts asleep ; 

There we pinch their arms and thighs ; 

None escapes nor none espies. 
15s 



156 THE FAIRY QUEEN 

But if the house be swept, 
And from uncleanness kept, 
We praise the household maid 
And surely she is paid ; 
For we do use, before we go, 
To drop a tester in her shoe. 

Upon a mushroom's head 
Our table we do spread ; 
A corn of rye or wheat 
Is manchet which we eat, 
Pearly drops of dew we drink 
In acorn cups filled to the brink. 

The brains of nightingales 
With unctuous dew of snails 
Between two nutshells stewed 
Is meat that's easily chewed ; 
And the beards of little mice 
Do make a feast of wondrous price. 

On tops of dewy grass 
So nimbly do we pass. 
The young and tender stalk 
Ne'er bends when we do walk ; 
Yet in the morning may be seen 
Where we the night before have been. 



THE FAIRY QUEEN 157 

The grasshopper and fly 

Serve for our minstrelsy. 

Grace said, we dance awhile, 

And so the time beguile ; 
And when the moon doth hide her head, 
The glow-worm lights us home to bed. 

From L'he Mysteries of Love and 
Eloquence (1658) ; with a preface 
signed E[dward] P[hillips]. 



NYMPHIDIA: 

The Court of Fairy 

Old Chaucer doth of Topas tell, 
Mad Rab'lais of Pantagruel, 
A later third of Dowsabel, 

With such poor trifles playing ; 
Others the like have laboured at, 
Some of this thing and some of that, 
And many of they know not what, 

But that they must be saying. 

Another sort there be, that will 
Be talking of the Fairies still, 
Nor never can they have their fill. 

As they were wedded to them ; 
No tales of them their thirst can slake, 
So much delight therein they take, 
And some strange thing they fain would make. 

Knew they the way to do them. 

Then since no Muse hath been so bold, 
Or of the later, or the old. 
Those elvish secrets to unfold. 

Which lie from others' reading, 

158 



NYMPHIDIA 159 

My active Muse to light shall bring 
The Court of that proud Fairy King, 
And tell there of the revelling : 
Jove prosper my proceeding ! 

And thou, Nymphidia, gentle Fay, 
Which, meeting me upon the way, 
These secrets didst to me bewray, 

Which now I am in telling ; 
My pretty, light, fantastic maid, 
I here invoke thee to my aid. 
That I may speak what thou hast said. 

In numbers smoothly swelling. 

This palace standeth in the air. 
By necromancy placed there. 
That it no tempests needs to fear, 

Which way soe'er it blow it ; 
And somewhat southward toward the noon. 
Whence lies a way up to the moon. 
And thence the Fairy can as soon 

Pass to the earth below it. 

The walls of spiders' legs are made 
Well mortised and finely laid ; 
He was the master of his trade 
It curiously that builded ; 



i6o NYMPHIDIA 

The windows of the eyes of cats, 
And for the roof, instead of slats, 
Is covered with the skins of bats, 

With moonshine that are gilded. 

Hence Oberon him sport to make, 
Their rest when weary mortals take, 
And none but only fairies wake, 

Descendeth for his pleasure ; 
And Mab, his merry Queen, by night 
Bestrides young folks that lie upright 
(In elder times, the mare that hight), 

Which plagues them out of measure. 

Hence shadows, seeming idle shapes. 

Of little frisking elves and apes 

To earth do make their wanton scapes. 

As hope of pastime hastes them : 
Which maids think on the hearth they see 
When fires well-near consumed be, 
There dancing hays by two and three, 

Just as their fancy casts them. 

These make our girls their sluttery rue. 
By pinching them both black and blue. 
And put a penny in their shoe 

The house for cleanly sweeping ; 



NYMPHIDIA i6i 

And in their courses make that round 
In meadows and in marshes found, 
Of them so called the Fairy Ground, 
Of which they have the keeping. 

These when a child haps to be got 
Which after proves an idiot 
When folk perceive it thriveth not, 

The fault therein to smother, 
Some silly, doating brainless calf 
That understands things by the half, 
Say that the Fairy left this aulfe 

And took away the other. 

But listen, and I shall you tell 
A chance in Fairy that befell. 
Which certainly may please some well 

In love and arms delighting. 
Of Oberon that jealous grew 
Of one of his own Fairy crew, 
Too well, he feared, his Queen that knew 

His love but ill requiting. 

Pigwiggen was this Fairy Knight, 
One wondrous gracious in the sight 
Of fair Queen Mab, which day and night 
He amorously observed ; 

M 



i62 NYMPHIDIA 

Which made King Oberon suspect 
His service took too good effect, 
His sauciness and often checkt, 

And could have wished him starved. 

Pigwiggen gladly would commend 
Some token to Queen Mab to send, 
If sea or land him aught could lend 

Were worthy of her wearing ; 
At length this lover doth devise 
A bracelet made of emmets' eyes, 
A thing he thought that she would prize, 

No whit her state impairing. 

And to the Queen a letter writes. 
Which he most curiously indites. 
Conjuring her by all the rites 

Of love, she would be pleased 
To meet him, her true servant, where 
They might, without suspect or fear, 
Themselves to one another clear 

And have their poor hearts eased. 

" At midnight the appointed hour, 
And for the Queen a fitting bower," 
Quoth he, " is that fair cowslip flower 
On Hipcut hill that bloweth : 



NYMPHIDIA 163 

In all your train there's not a fay- 
That ever went to gather may 
But she hath made it, in her way ; 
The tallest there that groweth." 

When by Tom Thumb, a Fairy Page, 
He sent it, and doth him engage 
By promise of a mighty wage 

It secretly to carry ; 
Which done, the Queen her maids doth call, 
And bids them to be ready all : 
She would go see her summer hall, 

She could no longer tarry. 

Her chariot ready straight is made. 
Each thing therein is fitting laid, 
That she by nothing might be stayed, 

For naught must be her letting ; 
Four nimble gnats the horses were. 
Their harnesses of gossamere, 
Fly Cranion her charioteer 

Upon the coach-box getting. 

Her chariot of a snail's fine shell, 
Which for the colours did excel. 
The fair Queen Mab becoming well, 
So lively was the limning ; 



164 NYMPHIDIA 

The seat the soft wool of the bee, 
The cover, gallantly to see, 
The wing of a pied butterflee ; 

I trow 'twas simple trimming. 

The wheels composed of crickets' bones, 
And daintily made for the nonce ; 
For fear of rattling on the stones 

With thistle-down they shod it ; 
For all her maidens much did fear 
If Oberon had chanced to hear 
That Mab his Queen should have been there, 

He would not have abode it. 

She mounts her chariot with a trice, 
Nor would she stay for no advice, 
Until her maids that were so nice 

To wait on her were fitted ; 
But ran herself away alone, 
Which when they heard, there was not one 
But hasted after to be gone. 

As she had been diswitted. 

Hop and Mop and Drop so clear, 
Pip and Trip and Skip that were 
To Mab, their sovereign, ever dear, 
Her special maids of honour ; 



NYMPHIDIA 165 

Fib and Tib and Pink and Pin, 
Tick and Quick and Jill and Jin, 
Tit and Nit and Wap and Win, 
The train that wait upon her. 

Upon a grasshopper they got 

And, what with amble and with trot, 

For hedge nor ditch they spared not, 

But after her they hie them ; 
A cobweb over them they throw, 
To shield the wind if it should blow ; 
Themselves they wisely could bestow 

Lest any should espy them. 

But let us leave Queen Mab awhile 
(Through many a gate, o'er many a stile, 
That now had gotten by this wile), 

Her dear Pigwiggen kissing ; 
And tell how Oberon doth fare. 
Who grew as mad as any hare 
When he had sought each place with care 

And found his Queen was missing. 

By grisly Pluto he doth swear, 
He rent his clothes and tore his hair, 
And as he runneth here and there 
An acorn cup he greeteth, 



i66 NYMPHIDIA 

Which soon he taketh by the stalk, 
About his head he lets it walk, 
Nor doth he any creature balk, 
But lays on all he meeteth. 

The Tuscan poet doth advance 
The frantic Paladin of France, 
And those more ancient do enhance 

Alcides in his fury, 
And others Ajax Telamon, 
But to this time there hath been none 
So bedlam as our Oberon, 

Of which I dare assure ye. 

And first encount'ring with a Wasp, 

He in his arms the fly doth clasp 

As though his breath he forth would grasp 

Him for Pigwiggen taking : 
" Where is my wife, thou rogue ? " quoth he ; 
" Pigwiggen, she is come to thee ; 
Restore her, or thou diest by me ! " 

Whereat the poor Wasp quaking. 

Cries, " Oberon, great Fairy King, 
Content thee, I am no such thing : 
I am a Wasp, behold my sting ! " 
At which the Fairy started ; 



NYMPHIDIA 167 

When soon away the Wasp doth go, 
Poor wretch was never frighted so ; 
He thought his wings were much too slow, 
O'erjoyed they so were parted. 

He next upon a Glow-worm light 
(You must suppose it now was night). 
Which, for her hinder part was bright, 

He took, to be a devil. 
And furiously doth her assail 
For carrying fire in her tail ; 
He thrasht her rough coat with his flail ; 

The mad King feared no evil. 

" Oh ! " quoth the Glow-worm, " hold thy hand. 
Thou puissant King of Fairy-land ! 
Thy mighty strokes who may withstand ? 

Hold, or of life despair I ! " 
Together then herself doth roll, 
And tumbling down into a hole. 
She seemed as black as any coal ; 

Which vext away the Fairy. 

From thence he ran into a hive : 
Amongst the bees he letteth drive, 
And down their combs begins to rive, 
All likely to have spoiled. 



i68 NYMPHIDIA 

Which with their wax his face besmeared, 
And with their honey daubed his beard : 
It would have made a man afeared 
To see how he was moiled. 

A new adventure him betides ; 

He met an Ant, which he bestrides, 

And post thereon away he rides, 

Which with his haste doth stumble, 
And came full over on her snout ; 
Her heels so threw the dirt about, 
For she by no means could get out, 

But over him doth tumble. 

And being in this piteous case, 
And all be-slurried head and face, 
On runs he in this wild-goose chase. 

As here and there he rambles ; 
Half blind, against a molehill hit. 
And for a mountain taking it, 
For all he was out of his wit 

Yet to the top he scrambles. 

And being gotten to the top. 
Yet there himself he could not stop, 
But down on th' other side doth chop. 
And to the foot came rumbling ; 



NYMPHIDIA 169 

So that the grubs, therein that bred, 
Hearing such turmoil overhead, 
Thought surely they had all been dead ; 
So fearful was the jumbling. 

And falling down into a lake, 
Which him up to the neck doth take, 
His fury somewhat it doth slake ; 

He calleth for a ferry ; 
Where you may some recovery note, 
What was his club he made his boat. 
And in his oaken cup doth float, 

As safe as in a wherry. 

Men talk of the adventures strange 
Of Don Quishott, and of their change, 
Through which he armed oft did range. 

Of Sancha Pancha's travel ; 
But should a man tell everything 
Done by this frantic Fairy King, 
And them in lofty numbers sing. 

It well his wits might gravel. 

Scarce set on shore, but therewithal 
He meeteth Puck, which most men call 
Hobgoblin, and on him doth fall 

With words from frenzy spoken : 



I70 NYMPHIDIA 

" Ho, ho," quoth Hob, '* God save thy grace ! 
Who drest thee in this piteous case ? 
He thus that spoiled my sovereign's face, 
I would his neck were broken ! " 

This Puck seems but a dreaming dolt, 
Still walking like a ragged colt, 
And oft out of a bush doth bolt, 

Of purpose to deceive us ; 
And leading us makes us to stray, 
Long winter's nights, out of the way ; 
And when we stick in mire and clay. 

Hob doth with laughter leave us. 

" Dear Puck," quoth he, " my wife is gone : 
As e'er thou lov'st King Oberon, 
Let everything but this alone. 

With vengeance and pursue her ; 
Bring her to me alive or dead. 
Or that vild thief Pigwiggen's head ; 
That villain hath defiled my bed. 

He to this folly drew her." 

Quoth Puck, " My liege, I'll never lin. 
But I will thorough thick and thin. 
Until at length I bring her in ; 

My dearest lord, ne'er doubt it. 



NYMPHIDIA 171 

Thorough brake, thorough briar, 
Thorough muck, thorough mire. 
Thorough water,, thorough fire ; 

And thus goes Puck about it." 

This thing Nymphidia overheard, 
That on this mad King had a guard, 
Not doubting of a great reward 

For first this business broaching ; 
And through the air away doth go. 
Swift as an arrow from the bow. 
To let her sovereign Mab to know 

What peril was approaching. 

The Queen, bound with Love's powerful'st charm, 

Sate with Pigwiggen arm in arm ; 

Her merry maids that thought no harm, 

About the room were skipping ; 
A humble bee, their minstrel, played 
Upon his hautboy ; every maid 
Fit for this Revels was arrayed. 

The hornpipe neatly tripping. 

In comes Nymphidia, and doth cry, 
" My sovereign, for your safety fly. 
For there is danger but too nigh ; 
I posted to forewarn you : 



172 NYMPHIDIA 

The King hath sent Hobgoblin out, 
To seek you all the fields about, 
And of your safety you may doubt 
If he but once discern you." 

When, like an uproar in a town, 
Before them everything went down ; 
Some tore a ruff, and some a gown, 

'Gainst one another jostling ; 
They flew about like chaff i' th' wind ; 
For haste some left their masks behind ; 
Some could not stay their gloves to find ; 

There never was such bustling. 

Forth ran they, by a secret way. 
Into a brake that near them lay ; 
Yet much they doubted there to stay. 

Lest Hob should hap to find them ; 
He had a sharp and piercing sight, 
All one to him the day and night ; 
And therefore were resolved by flight 

To leave this place behind them. 

At length one chanced to find a nut. 
In th' end of which a hole was cut. 
Which lay upon a hazel root. 

There scattered by a squirrel 



NYMPHIDIA 

Which out the kernel gotten had ; 
When quoth this Fay, " Dear Queen, be glad ; 
Let Oberon be ne'er so mad, 
I'll set you safe from peril. 

♦* Come all into this nut," quoth she, 
" Come closely in ; be ruled by me ; 
Each one may here a chooser be, 

For room ye need not wrastle : 
Nor need ye be together heapt " ; 
So one by one therein they crept, 
And lying down they soundly slept. 

And safe as in a castle. 

Nymphidia, that this while doth watch, 
Perceived if Puck the Queen should catch 
That he should be her over-match. 

Of which she well bethought her ; 
Found it must be some powerful charm. 
The Queen against him that 'must arm. 
Or surely he would do her harm, 

For throughly he had sought her. 

And list'ning if she aught could hear. 
That her might hinder, or might fear, 
But finding still the coast was clear. 
Nor creatiu'e had descried her; 



173 



174 NYMPHIDIA 

Each circumstance and having scanned, 
She came thereby to understand 
Puck would be with them out of hand ; 
When to her charms she hied her. 

And first her fern-seed doth bestow, 

The kernel of the mistletoe ; 

And here and there as Puck should go, 

With terror to affright him. 
She nightshade straws to work him ill. 
Therewith her vervain and her dill, 
That hindreth witches of their will. 

Of purpose to despite him. 

Then sprinkles she the juice of rue, 
That groweth underneath the yew ; 
With nine drops of the midnight dew. 

From lunary distilling : 
The molewarp's brain mixed therewithal ; 
And with the same the pismire's gall : 
For she in nothing short would fall. 

The Fairy was so willing. 

Then thrice under a briar doth creep. 
Which at both ends was rooted deep. 
And over it three times she leap, 
Her magic much availing : 



NYMPHIDIA 175 

Then on Proserpina doth call, 
And so upon her spell doth fall, 
Which here to you repeat I shall, 
Not in one tittle failing. 



" By the croaking of the frog, 
By the howling of the dog, 
By the crying of the hog 

Against the storm arising ; 
By the evening curfew bell, 
By the doleful dying knell, 

let this my direful spell. 

Hob, hinder thy surprising ! 

" By the mandrake's dreadful groans. 
By the lubrican's sad moans. 
By the noise of dead men's bones 

In charnel-houses rattling ; 
By the hissing of the snake. 
The rustling of the fire-drake, 

1 charge thee thou this place forsake. 

Nor of Queen Mab be prattling 



" By the whirlwind's hollow sound, 
By the thunder's dreadful stound, 
Yells of spirits underground, 

I charge thee not to fear us ; 



176 NYMPHIDIA 

By the screech-owl's dismal note, 
By the black night-raven's throat, 
I charge thee. Hob, to tear thy coat 

With thorns, if thou come near us ! 

Her spell thus spoke, she stept aside. 
And in a chink herself doth hide. 
To see thereof what would betide, 

For she doth only mind him : 
When presently she Puck espies. 
And well she marked his gloating eyes. 
How under every leaf he pries. 

In seeking still to find them. 

But once the circle got within, 

The charms to work do straight begin. 

And he was caught as in a gin ; 

For as he thus was busy, 
A pain he in his head-piece feels, 
i^.gainst a stubbed tree he reels. 
And up went poor Hobgoblin's heels ; 

Alas ! his brain was dizzy ! 

At length upon his feet he gets. 
Hobgoblin fumes. Hobgoblin frets ; 
And as again he forward sets, 

And through the bushes scrambles. 



NYMPHIDIA 177 

A stump doth trip him in his pace ; 
Down comes poor Hob upon his face, 
And lamentably tore his case, 

Amongst the briars and brambles. 

" A plague upon Queen Mab ! " quoth he, 
" And all her maids where'er they be : 
I think the devil guided me, 

To seek her so provoked ! " 
Where stumbling at a piece of wood, 
He fell into a ditch of mud. 
Where to the very chin he stood. 

In danger to be choked. 

Now worse than e'er he was before, 

Poor Puck doth yell, poor Puck doth roar, 

That waked Queen Mab, who doubted sore 

Some treason had been wrought her : 
Until Nymphidia told the Queen, 
What she had done, what she had seen. 
Who then had well-near cracked her spleen 

With very extreme laughter. 

But leave we Hob to clamber out. 
Queen Mab and all her Fairy rout, 
And come again to have a bout 
With Oberon yet madding : 



178 NYMPHIDIA 

And with Pigwiggen now distraught, 
Who much was troubled in his thought, 
That he so long the Queen had sought. 
And through, the fields was gadding. 

And as he runs he still doth cry, 
" King Oberon, I thee defy, 
And dare thee here in arms to try, 

For my dear lady's honour : 
For that she is a Queen right good. 
In whose defence I'll shed my blood. 
And that thou in this jealous mood 

Hast laid this slander on her." 

And quickly arms him for the field, 
A little cockle-shell his shield, 
Which he could very bravely wield. 

Yet could it not be pierced : 
His spear a bent both stiff and strong, 
And well-near of two inches long : 
The pile was of a horse-fly's tongue. 

Whose sharpness nought reversed. 

And puts him on a coat of mail, 
Which was of a fish's scale, 
That when his foe should him assail. 
No point should be prevailing : 



NYMPHIDIA 179 

His rapier was a hornet's sting : 
It was a very dangerous thing, 
For if he chanced to hurt the King, 
It would be long in healing. 

His helmet was a beetle's head, 
Most horrible and full of dread, 
That able was to strike one dead. 

Yet did it well become him ; 
And for a plume a horse's hair 
Which, being tossed with the air. 
Had force to strike his foe with fear, 

And turn his weapon from him. 

Himself he on an earwig set, 

Yet scarce he on his back could get, 

So oft and high he did curvet, 

Ere he himself could settle : 
He made him turn, and stop, and bound. 
To gallop, and to trot the round. 
He scarce could stand on any ground, 

He was so full of mettle. 

When soon he met with Tomalin, 
One that a valiant knight had bin. 
And to King Oberon of kin ; 
Quoth he, " Thou manly Fairy, 



i8o NYMPHIDIA 

Tell Oberon I come prepared, 
Then bid him stand upon his guard ; 
This hand his baseness shall reward, 
Let him be ne'er so wary. 

" Say to him thus, that I defy 
His slanders and his infamy, 
And as a mortal enemy 

Do publicly proclaim him. 
Withal that if I had mine own. 
He should not wear the Fairy crown, 
But with a vengeance should come down, 

Nor we a king should name him." 

This Tomalin could not abide 
To hear his sovereign vilified ; 
But to the Fairy Court him hied 

(Full furiously he posted), 
With everything Pigwiggen said : 
How title to the crown he laid, 
And in what arms he was arrayed, 

As how himself he boasted. 

'Twixt head and foot, from point to point, 
He told the arming of each joint, 
In every piece how neat and quaint, 
For Tomalin could do it : 



NYMPHIDIA i8i 

How fair he sat, how sure he rid, 
As of the courser he bestrid, 
How managed, and how well he did ; 
The King which listened to it. 

Quoth he, " Go, Tomalin, with speed, 
Provide me arms, provide my steed, 
And everything that I shall need ; 

By thee I will be guided ; 
To strait account call thou thy wit ; 
See there be wanting not a whit. 
In everything see thou me fit. 

Just as my foe's provided." 

Soon flew this news through Fairy-land, 
Which gave Queen Mab to understand 
The combat that was then in hand 

Betwixt those men so mighty : 
Which greatly she began to rue, 
Perceiving that all Fairy knew, 
The first occasion from her grew 

Of these affairs so weighty. 

Wherefore attended with her maids, 
Through fogs, and mists, and damps she wades, 
To Proserpine the Queen of Shades, 
To treat that it would please her 



1 82 NYMPHIDIA 

The cause into her hands to take, 
For ancient love and friendship's sake, 
And soon thereof an end to make, 

Which of much care would ease her. 

A while there let we Mab alone, 
And come we to King Oberon, 
Who, armed to meet his foe, is gone. 

For proud Pigwiggen crying : 
Who sought the Fairy King as fast 
And had so well his journeys cast, 
That he arrived at the last, 

His puissant foe espying. 

Stout Tomalin came with the King, 
Tom Thumb doth on Pigwiggen bring, 
That perfect were in everything 

To single fights belonging : 
And therefore they themselves engage 
To see them exercise their rage 
With fair and comely equipage. 

Not one the other wronging. 

So like in arms these champions were, 
As they had been a very pair. 
So that a man would almost swear 
That either had been either ; 



NYMPHIDIA 183 

Their furious steeds began to neigh, 
That they were heard a mighty way ; 
Their staves upon their rests they lay ; 
Yet, ere they flew together, 

Their seconds minister an oath. 
Which was indifferent to them both, 
That on their knightly faith and troth 

No magic them supplied ; 
And sought them that they had no charms 
Wherewith to work each other's harms, 
But came with simple open arms 

To have their causes tried. 

Together furiously they ran, 

That to the ground came horse and man, 

The blood out of their helmets span. 

So sharp were their encounters ; 
And though they to the earth were thrown. 
Yet quickly they regained their own, 
Such nimbleness was never shown. 

They were two gallant mounters. 

When in a second course again. 

They forward came with might and main, 

Yet which had better of the twain, 

The seconds could not judge yet ; 



i84 NYMPHIDIA 

Their shields were into pieces cleft, 
Their hehnets from their heads were reft, 
And to defend them nothing left, 

These champions would not budge yet. 

Away from them their staves they threw, 
Their cruel swords they quickly drew. 
And freshly they the fight renew, 

They every stroke redoubled ; 
Which made Proserpina take heed, 
And make to them the greater speed, 
For fear lest they too much should bleed, 

Wiiich wondrotisly her troubled. 

When to th' infernal Styx she goes. 
She takes the fogs from thence that rose. 
And in a bag doth them enclose, 

When well she had them blended. 
She hies her then to Lethe spring, 
A bottle and thereof doth bring, 
Wherewith she meant to work the thing 

Which only she intended. 

Now Proserpine with Mab is gone 
Unto the place where Oberon 
And proud Pigwiggen, one to one. 
Both to be slain were likely : 



NYMPHIDIA 185 

And there themselves they closely hide, 
Because they would not be espied ; 
For Proserpine meant to decide 
The matter very quickly. 

And suddenly unties the poke, 
Which out of it sent such a smoke, 
As ready was them all to choke, 

So grievous was the pother ; 
So that the knights each other lost. 
And stood as still as any post ; 
Tom Thumb nor Tomalin could boast 

Themselves ot any other. 

But when the mist 'gan somewhat cease 
Proserpina commandeth peace ; 
And that a while they should release 

Each other of their peril ; 
"Which here," quoth she, " I do proclaim 
To all in dreadful Pluto's name. 
That as ye will eschew his blame, 

You let me hear the quarrel : 

" But here yourselves you must engage 
(Somewhat to cool your spleenish rage. 
Your grievous thirst and to assuage) 
That first you drink this liquor, 



i86 NYMPHIDIA 

Which shall your understanding clear, 
As plainly shall to you appear ; 
Those things from me that you shall hear, 
Conceiving much the quicker." 

This Lethe water, you must know, 
The memory destroyeth so. 
That of our weal, or of our woe. 

Is all remembrance blotted ; 
Of it nor can you ever think ; 
For they no sooner took this drink, 
But naught into their brains could sink 

Of what had them besotted. 

King Oberon forgotten had 

That he for jealousy ran mad, 

But of his Queen was wondrous glad. 

And asked how they came thither : 
Pigwiggen likewise doth forget 
That he Queen Mab had ever met. 
Or that they were so hard beset. 

When they were found together. 

Nor neither of them both had thought 
That e'er they had each other sought. 
Much less that they a combat fought, 
But such a dream were loathing : 



NYMPHIDIA 187 

Tom Thumb had got a little sup, 
And Tomalin scarce kissed the cup, 
Yet had their brains so sure locked up. 
That they remembered nothing. 

Queen Mab and her light maids, the while, 
Amongst themselves do closely smile, 
To see the King caught with this wile. 

With one another jesting : 
And to the Fairy Court they went 
With mickle joy and merriment. 
Which thing was done with good intent: 

And thus I left them feasting. 



NOTES ON TEXTS 



p. 


73. ' 


p. 


74,1. 


p. 


75,1 


p. 


78,1 


p. 


79,1- 


p. 


79, 1 


p. 


80, 1. 


p. 


80, 1 



The I^egend of Pyramus and Th'isbe, 
See p. 31. 

12. Ift, hinder, prevent. 

18. vouching safe, vouchsafing. 

4. parget, plaster, roughcast. 

10. stoiind, position. 
I. mei'nf, mixed. 

19. be/yve, immediately. 

5. sicker, sure, certain. 

11. besperf, speckled. 



Robin Good-felloiv. 

See pp. 39, 63. The text here given is that of the 
reprint of the 1628 edition, edited for the Percy Society by 
J. Payne Collier in 1841. The original black-letter tract, 
there described as being "in the library of Lord Francis 
Egerton, M.P.," is still in that collection, which is now 
known as the Bridgewater House Library. Collier's intro- 
duction is characteristic ; it contains a good deal of correct 
information, and an interesting note based on forgeries of his 
own in Henslowe's Diary. 

P. 81, 1. 20. Long-tails. Cf. Fuller's JVorthies, Kent 
(181 1), i. 486: "It happened in an English village where 
)88 



NOTES ON TEXTS 189 

Saint Austin was preaching, that the Pagans therein did beat 
and abuse both him and his associates, opprobriously tying 
fish-tails to their backsides ; in revenge whereof an impudent 
author relateth . . . how such appendants grew to the hind- 
parts of all that generation." — See Murray, N. E. D. s.v. 
Long-tail. The earliest reference is to Moryson's Itinerary^ 
161 7. " Kentish-tayld " occurs in Nashe's Strange News, 
1592, sig. E 4. 

P. 84, 1. 22. suite, snipe. 

P. 88, 1. 27,. presently, immediately. 

P. 90, 1. II. ho, ho, hohl This is Robin's traditional 
laugh. Cf. the refrain of the broadside, p. 144. 

P. 93, I. 19. bolt, sift, pass through a sieve. 

P. 95, 1. 5. himpen, hanipen. Cf. " Hemton hamton " in 
Scot's account of Robin, p. 135. 

P. 97, 1. 18. n'lght-mven, proverbially a bird of ill-omen. 

P. 98, 1. 7. j'/(7ri/(?^/, stiffened. A dialect word, still in use. 

P. 98, 1. 22. quills, spools or "bottoms" on which 
weavers' thread is wound. 

P. 1 01, 1. 8. the tune of JVatton Toavn s End. See Chap- 
pell's Popular Music, 218-20. 

P. 105, 1. 18. bombasting, puffing up, frothing. 

P. 106, 1. 1. Obreon. The 1639 edition spells the name 
in the ordinary way, but it may be noted that the Pepysian 
copy of the broadside ballad (p. 144), begins — 

" From Obreon in fairyland." 

P. 108, 1. 16. the tune of What care I hoiv fair she be? 
This is the tune to George Wither's famous — 

" Shall I wasting in despair 
Die because a woman's fair \ " 

See Chappell's Popular Music, 315. 



190 NOTES ON TEXTS 

P. 109, 1. 5. the tune of The Spanish Pavin. (Pavin = 
Pavan. ) See Chappell, op. cit., 240. 

P. 1 10, 1. 13. the tune of The Jovial Tinier. See Chappell, 
op. cit., 187. 

P. no, 1. 25. ax = ask. The form "ax" was in use 
till the end of the sixteenth century, and continues in 
dialect. 

P. Ill, 1. 13. the tune of Broom. See Chappell, op. cit., 
458 ; but this song does not fit the metre. 

The Romance of Thomas of Erceldoune, 
(Fytte I.) 

See pp. 45-7. In preparing the text, I have reduced in 
as simple a manner as possible the fifteenth-century spelling 
to modern forms. Dr. J. A. H. Murray's parallel texts (see 
note on p. 46) have been consulted, but mainly I have 
followed the oldest of them — that of the Thornton MS. in 
Lincoln Cathedral Library. The footnotes explain all 
words save those that are or ought to be familiar to every 
reader. 

1. 17. See p. 54. 

1. 43. See pp. 46-7 and note. 

I. 48. For an elaborate investigation of the circumstances 
concerning the Eildon tree, see the special section in Murray's 
edition. 

II. 1 3 1-6. On the danger of eating fairy apples, see 

P- 53- 

1, 145 et sqq. See p. 46. 

I. 208. This sudden and momentary change to the first 
person is found in all the older MSS. See p. 47. 

II. 219-24. See p. 54; also Sir Walter Scott's introduc- 



NOTES ON TEXTS 191 

tion to the ballad of The Toung Tamlatie, in 1 he Minstrelsy of 
the Scottish Border. 

1. 235. Fyttes II and III are wholly concerned with the 
prophecies, and have nothing to do with the story of 
Thomas. 

Scot's Discovery of Witchcraft. 

P. 135, 1. 13. (Book IV, chap, x.) Hemton hamton. Cf. 
" himpen hampen " in Robin Gooci-felloiu, and note, p. 189. 

P. 138, 1. 20. (Book VII, chap, xv.) Kit ivith the can- 
stick. Christopher-with-the-candlestick is another name for 
Jack-o'-lantern, calkers — dawaexs. For j/ioor«, see Wright, 
Dialect Dictionary, s.v. 

P. 140, 1. 8. (Discourse, chap. xxi. ) Hudgin is more 
usually spelled Hodeken, the German familiar fairy. Cf. 
the French Hugon, a bugbear used to frighten children. 

Strange Farlies. 

P. 141. This extract from Churchyard was first cited 
by E. K. Chambers in his edition of M. N. D. in the 
Warivick Shakespeare. 

I he Mad Merry Pranks of Robin Good-fellow. 

P. J 44. This broadside is found in various editions in 
the larger collections (Roxburghe Coll., I. 230; Pepys, 
I. 80 ; also in the Bagford) ; the text here given is Percy's 
collation (as printed in his Reliques) of one or two of the 
above. The tune of Dulcina was famous ; it may be seen in 
Chappell's Popular Music, 142. 

The Fairies' Faretuell. 
P. 153, 1. II. [jieed^. Poetic a Stromata reads want. 



192 NOTES ON TEXTS 

The Fairy Queen. 

P. 155. The poem was given by Percy in his Reliqties 
from The Mysteries of Love and Eloquence, a curious book of 
which the preface is signed E. P. ; the British Museum 
Catalogue attributes these initials to Edward PhilHps, the 
nephew of John Milton. But Rimbault pointed out that 
this song occurs in a tract of 1635, A Description of the King 
and Qiieen of the Fairies, attributed to Robert Herrick ; a 
single copy of this jiamphlet is known, and is in the Bodleian 
Library. 

Nymphidia. 

P. 158. Michael Drayton's fairy-poem was first pub- 
lished in 1627, and perhaps owes a little of its charm to 
Shakespeare's play, though not so much as Drayton's sonnets 
to those of the elder poet. 

P. 160. upright, flat on the back. This is the older 
meaning, which Drayton would find in Chaucer. 

hays, dances. Cf. heydeguys, p. 148. 

P. 161. aulfe. Cf. " ouphs," Merry IVives of Windsor, 
V. V. 

Pignviggen. " Piggy-widden " is a west-country dialect 
term, meaning a little white pig, used as an endearment for 
the youngest of a family. 

P. 162. starved, i.e. killed. 

P. 1 66. The Tuscan poet, Ariosto ; the frantic Paladin, 
Orlando Furioso. 

P. 170. ^^ Ho, hoJ' See note (p. 189) on Robin 
Goodfelloiv. 

vild, an old form of " vile." 

Un, stop. 



NOTES ON TEXTS 193 

P. \l\. fern-seed. A very common superstition, which 
still survives, is that the seeds of the fern have power to 
confer invisibility. 

lunary, a name given to several plants, here probably 
moonwort. It was supposed to open locks. 

P. 175. lubrican, the name of an Irish pigmy sprite, 
otherwise called leprechaun. 
Jire-drake, a fiery dragon. The word also meant a meteor. 

P. 178. /ifw/, grass- stalk. 



INDEX 



Aegeus, 12 

Aegles, 9 

Aethra, 9 

Alberich, 36 

Alcmena, 9 

Amaxonide, i 3 

Anelida and Anite, i 3 

Antiopa, 9-10 

Apuleius, 30 

Arcite, 12-25 

Ariadne, 9 

Aristotle, i 2 

Arthur, King, 44, 48, 57 

Arthurian cycle, 57-8 

Auberon, 35 

Avalon, 43 

Ballads : Tarn Lin, 38, 53 
Thomas the Rhymer, 46-7 
King Off eo, 52 

Boccaccio, 12-14 

Bodin, 30 

Bottom, 29-30 

Breton lays, 54-5 



Chambers, E. K., 9, 24, 40, 
64 

Characters, 4 : Theseus and 
Hippolyta, 9-1 1 ; Egeus, 
Phikstrate, Lysander, Deme- 
trius, Helena, and Hermia, 
I 2 ; Bottom and his com- 
rades, 29 ; Oberon, 35-6 ; 
Titania, 36 ; Puck, 37-40 

Chaucer, 9, 10, 12-14, 
22-5, 39, 58 

Demetrius, i 2, 25 
Demonology, ^j 
Diana, 36-7 

Discovery of Witchcraft, 29- 
30. 36, 39» 133-140 

Eddie lays, 42 

Edwardes, R., 22 

Egeus, I 2 

Elf-land : see Fairy-land. 

Emelye (Emilia), 12, 14-22 

Emetreus, 19, 21, 25 



194 



INDEX 



195 



Eochaid, 55-7 
Etain, 55-7 
Eurydice, 49-50 

Fairie Queen, 36, 39 

Fairies, 35, 41, 44, 62-6. 
See also under King and 
Queen. 

Fairy-Iand, 35,46, 55-7, 59 

Fairy-lore : sleeping under 
trees, 53 ; the fiend's 
tithe, 53-4 ; white 
horses, 54 ; horns, 62 ; 
hunt, 62 

Fates, 42 

Fay, 41 

Fletcher, John, 23 

Golding, A., 3 I 
Gollancz, Prof., 32 
Goodfellow, Robin, 37-40, 

63, U+-8 
Goodfellow, Robin, tract, 

39' 81-121 
Gower, John, 41 
Greene, Robert, 12, 36 

Halpin, Rev. N. J., 66-7 
Helena, i 2 

Henslowe's Diary, 22-3 
Hercules, 9-ic 
Hermia, 1 2 



Hippodamia, 9 
Hippolyta, 9-1 1 
Huon of Bordeaux, 35-6, 39, 
44, 60-2 

James I, 36 
James IF, 3 6 

King of Fairies, 35-6, 51,55 
Kittredge, Prof., 55 
Knightes Tale, 11 -14, 24-5 
„ analysis, 14-22 

Laufifal, 47-9 

Legend of Good Women, 13, 31 
Ligurge, 19, 21, 25 
Love's Labour's Lost, 3 
Lysander, 12, 25 
Lysidice, 9 

Mab, Queen, 37, 64, 149- 

150 
Malleus Malefcarum, 30 
Marie de France, 47 
Massinger, Philip, 23 
May, observance of, 24 
Merchant of Venice, 2 
Metamorphoses, 31, 36 
Mider, 55-6 
Midsummer-Night's Dream : 

date, 1-2 ; character, 2- 

3 ; three component plots, 

4 ; main (sentimental) 



196 



INDEX 



plot, 9-25 ; grotesque 
plot and interlude, 29- 
32 ; fairy plot, 35-66 
Morgan le Fay, 43, 57 

Nashe, Thomas, 12, 40-1 

Norns, 42 

North, Lord : Plutarch's 

Life of Theseus, 9, 1 2 
Nutt, Alfred, 41 
Nymphidia, 158-187 

Oberon, 3 5-6. His Vision, 

66-8 
Ogier the Dane, 43 
Orpheo, 49-52 
Orpheus, 49-50 
Ovid, 31, 36 

Palamon, 12-25 
Pdlamon and A r cite, 22-3 
Palladis Tamia, i 
Pelops, 9 
Perrault, 35 
Philostrate, 12, 24 
Pirithous, 16 
Pittheus, 9 
Plutarch, 9, 12 
Pluto, 36 
Proserpine, 36 
Puck, 37-40, 64 



Pyramus, 29, 31-2, 73-80 

Queen of Fairies, 36-7, 45, | 
49 

Romances (metrical) : Thomas 
of Erceldoune, 45-7? 122- 
132 ; Sir Launfal, 47-9 ; 
Sir {King) Orpheo, 49-52 

Saxo Grammaticus, 42 
Scot, Reginald, 29-30, 36, 39 
Spenser, Edmund, 36, 39 
Statius, I 3, 15 
Subterranean descents, 44 
Superstition (modern), 31 

Tempest, 3 

Teseide, 13-14 

Thebais, 1 3 

Theseus, 9-1 1 

Thisbe, 29, 31-2, 73-80 

Thomas of Erceldoune, 45- 

6, 122-32 
Titania, 36 
Troilus and Criseyde, 14 
Tuatha De Danann, 59, 65 
Ttvo Gentlemen of Verona, 2 
Tzvo Noble Kinsmen, 23, 25 

Witches, 31 



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